


The Stargate Initiative: REVISED Edition

by Legacy2091



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Earlier Stargate Program, Alternate Universe - World War II, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 134,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23878090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legacy2091/pseuds/Legacy2091
Summary: When Ernest Littlefield goes through the Stargate in 1945, two things are different: he is equipped with a wireless radio, and the Heliopolis DHD is intact. These allow the formation of the Stargate Initiative, and a much earlier beginning to Earth's exploration of the galaxy.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. The engineer and the radio

Prologue

The smallest of changes can bring about the biggest differences. A single life, or even the presence of one small alteration, could bring about great changes. In one universe, their presence or absence might seem innocuous at first, but over time could bring about catastrophic changes or magnificent progress. Here, in one universe, the impact of two small objects in the grand cosmic scale would bring about life-changing events for the inhabitants of several galaxies. Here now is the universe changed by an engineer and a radio …

PB2-908/ES-1 "Heliopolis"- 9,131 B.C.E.

The castle was bustling with various amounts of movement as the construction teams moved with their drones and other tools putting the finishing touches on the location. Oberon, however, was merely standing still, though he was accomplishing more than any of the foremen and their drones. The jutting, clamp-like device was clinging firmly to his head and humming with power, and with a simple thought, he sent several electrical impulses through the machine's wireless interface into the pedestal standing behind him.

Rising to the top of the castle, the new column stood firm and unmoving. Almost a meter in diameter and reinforced with a trinium core, this column was the same as hundreds of others being placed within the castle. He grinned as he deactivated the repository and admired his work. This would be his greatest achievement yet, a location for his people and other advanced races to meet. Its legacy would long outlive him and had been a project he had long worked for ever since he had arrived. He began to circle around the newly-constructed pillar and inspected it for flaws he knew would not be there. His work was perfect, but the inspection kept his mind off the past. Yet he began to remember her once more, despite his best efforts to forget. The memory made his grin disappear as he stretched, shaking his muscles loose after standing still for hours.

It had been more than five years now since he had returned from Atlantis. The war against the vile Wraith was going poorly when he had departed; the Middle Reach had fallen to an assault, and the beasts were coming closer and closer to Atlantis. Many of his kind had started the process of Ascension as the conflict became more and more hopeless.

He grimaced, despite his best efforts to push the sadness aside. He remembered Lirian's smiling face, and the joy he felt when he was with her. Her sunset-colored hair always looked beautiful, especially on the sunny days in their small house. The war seemed so far away and out of mind when he was with her. His engineering work mainly focused on building up planetary infrastructure and so he remained far from the front lines. Still, the two had prepared to ascend and live forever, far beyond any conflict or petty problem the galaxies might offer.

Then the Wraith had taken her on a surprise attack on the inner colonies. While on one of the colony's sister worlds, the Wraith had launched a rapid assault on several inner worlds within the Lantean zone of control. Causing as much damage as possible and taking as many poor souls as they could, the Wraith had torched several of the oldest colonies of his people and fled before the mighty host of the Lantean fleets could arrive and repel them, taking hundreds of thousands, including his beloved.

He had nothing once she was taken; the projects of the Pegasus galaxy lost all meaning and interest to him. Every day, the Wraith made more and more gains, and he loathed to see his work either destroyed or used by his foe. Without Lirian, ascension lost any meaning and joy if he could not be with her. Thus, when several of his compatriots decided to return to Avalon, to flee Pegasus while they could, he opted to return with them. Perhaps the disease had burned itself out and they could rebuild.

Alas, it was not to be. The sickness had taken a greater toll than originally thought when his ancestors departed to Pegasus. His people were still powerful, yet only a shadow of what they once were. Terra and her children were still primitive, and nowhere near to being a potential superpower. Some who came back decided to live amongst them anyway, to breed and pass down a legacy through their genes, others had opted to ascend and live beyond the limitations of the mortal world. Still others continued on, exploring the galaxy, seeding Astria Porta, and building new outposts. In time, they had met several other advanced races in the galaxy and it was decided to create a grand location for all four groups to meet.

As he placed his hand on the pillar's smooth stone, Oberon remembered his surprise when he had been given control of the project. The design he had been given was that of an ancient citadel, but the actual construction and fabrication would fall to him. The engineer who was originally working on the project wanted to use simple stones to maintain the authentic look of the place and over time let it fall to the natural elements should it go into disuse. Once Oberon arrived, the engineer was delighted to have someone else who could take over and had later ascended. However, Oberon would not let this place fall. Though alliances and political machinations might render this location moot, the building would still stand. This grand repository and meeting hall would be his mark left on the galaxy; before he died, he wanted to leave something meaningful behind. Slowly, he reworked many parts of the original design, introducing small bits of trinium reinforcing, improved weather-resistance technologies were installed, the cliff face was braced against the erosion of the nearby sea, and the electronic systems were given multiple redundancies. Eventually, the outpost could even be given a city-ship variant shield, if the need for the now-reduced supply of Potentia in Pegasus were to wane or if an alternative could be found. The stone may wither over time, but the location would stand for thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of years. A place of peace and knowledge, it would be his small legacy to leave behind…

Chapter 1

United States, 1945

"Doorway to Heaven." That was the translation of the name of the massive device in front of Ernest Littlefield. The ring-shaped device was being rotated to lock onto the destination they'd found while he himself was being suited up in standard diving dress with a slight modification. In addition to a wired communications system, the diving helmet had been modified with a radio transceiver taken from the classified Joan-Eleanor system used to communicate with agents in the field in Europe. The radio unit had been altered so that he could hit the push-to-talk button with his chin and then speak. He'd been surprised by this; even the Navy didn't have access to wireless systems for their suits. He suspected that his father-in-law-to-be had pulled some strings with his friends in the OSS to get the experimental unit. Before he had prepared to suit up, he remembered what Professor Langford said: "I'm not worried about what's beyond that doorway, I'm worried about the hell my little girl will raise if I don't bring her fiancé home."

He was still smiling at the comment as they fitted the helmet over his head, carefully moving several wires and an antenna to ensure the radio was working, while providing room for the air hose to pump oxygen into the helmet. As the last seal was tightened, he stood. The Doorway had been activated, and he slowly walked up the ramp. Pressing the "transmit" button on the radio, he began to speak. "This is Doctor Ernest Littlefield. Can you hear me?" he asked, then released the button.

"We're receiving, Doctor Littlefield. Proceed." the voice of Paul Langford said.

"Proceeding." Ernest said as he walked up to the Doorway. "I am entering it now." he said as he began to step through the gate, talk button depressed. When he completed stepping through the gate, he found himself in a completely different chamber. "Professor Langford, I've arrived in some sort of chamber. No evidence of being underwater like we thought it might be." he said.

Suddenly, the light behind him vanished; looking back, the rippling surface was gone, to be replaced only by the sight of the empty ring. Looking further, he saw the severed remains of his air hose. Panic gripped at him as he held his breath, unaware of if there were any toxins in the air. After several excruciating minutes, his lungs burned and he was forced to take a deep gulp of air. Taking several more, he was surprised to find that the air that was coming in through the severed hose was quite breathable.

Taking several steps forward, the place he was in felt very similar to the conditions of the warehouse. His weighted boots clanged heavily as he stepped forward on the raised dais that held the gate. Grunting, he unlatched the heavy boots and left them in front of the Doorway. Disconnecting the useless hose, he left the porthole in the back of his helmet open to let the fresh air in.

With that, he began to explore the immediate area. He was in some medium sized chamber, the Doorway was held up on a dais, and about twenty feet away was a curious-looking pedestal. Walking over, Ernest saw that it had a dull red center dome, and a variety of tabs with intricate symbols. Reaching down, he pressed one the symbols at random and was surprised to see it light up, and through the din of his helmet, he could hear a loud hum. Pressing several more, he was curious about their illumination. He soon found, though, that he could only illuminate seven at a time. Pressing further, he placed his hand on the red center. It began to glow for a brief moment as a whirling sound filled the air, but stopped a moment later. The glowing dome dimmed at the same time. Pressing another random set of seven, he tried again, and was met by the dull whirl and glow that ended in less than a second.

Looking to his left, he saw several open windows. Walking over, he looked out to see a vast sea, and that his location was precariously perched over a steep cliff. He heard the waves crash against the cliff face with a thunderous roar as the sun made the water sparkle. The sun was hanging high above the sea, which was strange since he had departed in the early evening back in the warehouse.

"Where the hell am I?" Ernest asked himself as he rested on his elbows looking out over the sea. He had decided to remain in the room for a while in case the professor tried to contact him.

Losing himself in his thoughts, Ernest began to think of Catherine; their wedding was scheduled for three months from now. He wanted nothing more than to be back wherever she was and hold her. Would he ever get back? Could the professor find him? A small sense of fear and loss began to creep into the back of his head, but he quickly shook his head as best he could with several pounds of brass restricting his finer neck movements. Looking behind, he noticed several sets of different glyphs on the wall. Some looked like a language he had never seen before, while others looked strangely like Egyptian hieroglyphs. Was he somewhere in the Mediterranean, perhaps? Some kind of lost island in the seas by Egypt? Walking over to the wall, he placed a hand over the symbols and squinted. Near the top were various hieroglyphic symbols and other texts that looked to be a derivative of the Egyptian language, yet behind the symbols, seeming as though someone had attempted to etch them out were another, more faded set of symbols. Looking down, Ernest saw the Egyptian text used less and less and the older text appeared more and more. Strangely, the flow of the older symbols seemed to look more like the symbols on the pedestal and Doorway rather than the hieroglyphics.

"That's weird," he thought as he looked at the two. The presence of two different language sets would seem to imply that one group had originally inhabited the area, before another group moved in, yet the older texts didn't resemble any forms of writing that would predate the Egyptians. Hell, from what he remembered of the Professor's lectures, only the Mesopotamians had beaten the Egyptians to some kind of written language, and this text didn't look anything like cuneiform. Perhaps it was a derivative of an ancient form of Minoan hieroglyphs; it would make sense, especially if he was in the Mediterranean.

Lost in thought, Ernest wasn't paying attention to the rest of the room. When the doorway began to activate once more, he didn't notice. After the third chevron on the gate was locked, he suddenly woke up to his surroundings as he suddenly heard a faint whirl, similar to the sound when he pressed the tabs on the strange pedestal, except the sound continued for far longer. Looking to the Doorway, he saw the arrows along the outside slowly beginning to light up. One by one, they began to glow orange and the whirling sounds continued. He also heard the strange lighting sounds emanating from the pedestal. Running over, he saw several of the tabs beginning to light up on their own. Three were already activated, and soon a fourth followed, then a fifth, then a sixth, and then the final one illuminated. The pedestal's core began to glow a bright red.A loud noise, that sounded like a large lock being unlocked, echoed through the room. Looking up at the ring, Ernest heard a loud kawoosh and saw a bright blue wave of some kind of energy extend outward from the device just like it had when it was activated in the warehouse. He noticed that the boots he had left on the dais were obliterated by the vortex of energy as it slowly retreated and formed the gently-rippling pool of energy and light in the center of the ring. After several seconds, the radio in Ernest's helmet began to crackle to life.

"Hello? Hello?! Ernest, it's Paul. Are you there?"

Pressing his chin to the strap, Ernest replied as a huge surge of relief welled within his body. "Paul, it's Ernest! I'm here!"

"Ernest, it's good to hear you. Now, we have no idea how long this will stay open. I recommend that you return as soon as possible." his future father-in-law responded with a small note of relief in his voice.

Looking at the smoldering remains of his boots in front of the ring, Ernest eyed the pool in the center with suspicion. "We don't know if that's possible, Professor. This thing has a lot of unknowns and dangers. I left my boots in front of it, and the waveform that emerged when we dialed the Doorway disintegrated them. For all we know, the passage only works in one direction at a time. Give me a moment; there is plenty of rubble here. I'm going to throw a piece back through the doorway. Let me know if it arrives, and I'll come back through if it does." Ernest said. He walked over to a small pile of broken stones and chipped masonry and grabbed one of the larger pieces, then walked toward the Doorway.

"Throwing it through … now." he said, and let the rock fly. It vanished into the pool of light with a ripple. After several seconds, the radio crackled once more.

"Ernest, nothing came through." said the professor, a slight tone of disappointment in his voice.

"Then transit isn't possible in both directions. I'm stranded here." Lifting his chin so the radio wouldn't transmit, he looked at the ring he could not enter. "Oh, god … I'm stranded here." he muttered quietly to himself.

"For the time being. Try to see if there's any way to activate it from your side after it closes." Professor Langford said quickly in a reassuring tone. "We'll attempt to send supplies through soon. We'll keep the radio apparatus here and will contact you regularly."

"What are you going to tell Catherine?"

"I don't know, Ernest. I'll tell her what I can."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Ernest, I swear to god we're going to get you home, son. I'm not leaving my daughter's fiancé to die in some rat hole in the middle of nowhere. Do you need anything apart from the basics? The men are already getting ready to send a crate through."

"Yes .. Send a couple more radios in case this one breaks. Also, I could really use some pants and a shirt; walking around in this diving suit is going to get mighty uncomfortable after a few days."

Several minutes passed, and then a medium-sized crate came through on a small dolly. Running up to the dais, Ernest grabbed the crate and wheeled it down the steps of the dais. As he pulled, the professor's voice once again filled his helmet.

"The generators are about to run out of fuel over here; we'll try and contact you in a day or two, three at most. Ernest, have you seen anything that might help you get back?"

"Yes; there's some strange pedestal near the gate. It has the same symbols as the gate, and has tabs that light up whenever you press them. It might just be some kind of announcement screen, but it might be my best chance." he said.

"All right, sounds good. I'll make sure the techs keep everyone away from the gate in case you call in so no one gets hit by the vortex. We'll check in soon, Ernest … Good luck."

With that, the Professor's voice cut out as the Doorway turned off. Alone once more, Ernest opened the crate and took out two backpack radios, several tins of rations and water, and a fresh uniform. Quickly changing into the lighter fatigues, Ernest Littlefield stepped over to the pedestal. He rubbed his hands together, and then began to press the symbols.

"Just like a telephone number." he muttered to himself as he completed a set of seven symbols and pressed the red center. The tabs emitted their loud sound as he pressed each one. After he completed the set, he placed his hand on the red core, and heard the faint whirl start up, only to die. Cursing, he input another set of seven. "Let's see if I can dial home..."

For nearly a week, Ernest tried hundreds of different combinations, too obsessed with the prospect of returning to even leave the chamber, but to no avail; none formed a connection. Frustration was beginning to well within him as he furiously jabbed in another set of seven symbols. When he pressed the red crystal, he expected the small whirl and silence that had greeted him so many times before. He was surprised instead when the crystal glowed a fierce red and a loud kawoosh emanated from the gate, creating the cool blue portal.

Jumping with joy, Ernest ran over to his helmet; it was time to radio the professor the good news. "Professor! Professor! … Paul, it worked; I'm coming home!" he yelled into the microphone as he put the helmet on. He began to sprint to the gate, eager to throw himself through and be back home. Just as he began to climb up the dais, a thought crossed his mind that forced him to slow down, and then stop just inches from the shimmering pool.Why hadn't the professor radioed back? Why hadn't anyone radioed back? The past four times the base radioed him, it was the professor who responded, or at least a radio tech that was monitoring the gate 24/7, according to Paul's last transmission, so that Ernest could talk to someone if he figured out the sequence. But no one was talking to him.

Tentatively, he pressed the chin strap again. "Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me?" He called, but received no answer.

Swearing, he unfastened his helmet and went to one of the backup radios that had been sent. Turning a couple of knobs and checking the power, both of which were fine, he tried again. "Hello? Hello? Base? This is Doctor Ernest Littlefield. Do you copy?" he called into the speaker, but got only static.

Now, he was faced with a dilemma. The base wasn't responding, but the Doorway was open. Maybe there was an outage at the base and they couldn't respond. Perhaps the tech had to take a head break. The possibilities were endless, yet Ernest's gut told him that there was something more. A conversation he'd had with the professor the day before he walked through the Doorway.

"If it's some kind of lock, why thirty-nine symbols? Why not just six?" Professor Langford asked.

"They're not combinations; they're destinations! And we just found one!" Ernest replied.

Maybe this wasn't the destination to the Doorway at the warehouse at all. Maybe this was a third Doorway, one that was somewhere else entirely.

He went over to crate, pulled out a pad and pencil, and wrote the combination down; no sense in losing it. For the next half-hour, Ernest continued to use the radio, but to no avail. All three were working, but no one was responding. After slightly over a half-hour or so by his reckoning, the Doorway shut down on its own.

Sighing, Ernest leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, covering his face with his hands. Freedom … it had been so close, but he just didn't want to chance it. He'd have to ask the professor about it when he dialed in tomorrow for their scheduled resupply. Standing up, Ernest walked over to the window. For the past week, the nights had been decidedly overcast, but now it looked like the clouds were letting up for the evening. At least, he could try to approximate his location with astronomy, though his skills were a bit rusty from his boy scout days.

Looking up into the clear night sky filled him with relief and wonder, the clear air felt good to his lungs, and the stars shone like beacons that could help him find his way home. Grasping the sides of the window hole, he looked out to try and get his bearings. It took him a moment to adjust to the cool air in his face, but eventually he was able to see more clearly as his eyes adjusted to the wind and darkness as well.Squinting further, he felt a familiar warning of dread begin to curl up in his stomach… Where the hell was Polaris? Hell, he shouldn't even see the South Star. Where were the Dippers? Sirius? Scorpio? Orion? He could find none of the familiar constellations or stars, and while he thought he might have been on the other side of the world, he saw absolutely no familiar locations in the night sky, none at all. Searching more, he realized something even more grave: He couldn't find the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you've enjoyed the beginning of this tale. I'm finally bringing this story to AO3, and so will be updating frequently to catch up to the other sites I've posted this on.


	2. Not Earth

Chapter 2:

"…Ernest, you want to say that again?"

"Professor, I know it sounds crazy, bu… but I don't think I'm on Earth anymore."

"Son, I know you've been stuck there for a week now, and things must be getting kind of stir crazy, but I need you to hold onto it, if not for me, then for Catherine."

"I know what I'm saying!" Ernest snapped. Immediately regretting that, he took a deep breath, and then continued, "Look, I've been gone for a week now; it was a full moon when I left. The new moon should still be another week away. The constellations not being right, the strange languages, my earlier connection, it's all too much evidence. Either I'm on a strange, undiscovered island on Earth, which I doubt since there’s, nothing in the sky to indicate so, or this thing is some kind of gateway to other worlds."

There was a pregnant pause before someone spoke up. "Ernest… you realize what you're saying … what it could mean, if it's even possible, I mean…"

"Look, Professor, I described the seven symbols I dialed. Why don't you try dialing it; maybe I was wrong, and it does connect here."

"We looked, and we only have six of those symbols on our end; the last one isn't on our ring."

"I noticed that, too, when I looked at the pedestal here; the last symbol of the code you sent me here with wasn't on it. The inverted V with the circle above it … Maybe … Maybe that symbol is unique for each ring, an identifying marker or something. Try the coordinates I gave you with that in mind, and it might work. Professor, if that's the case, if there is some kind of connection … then this thing is way bigger than we thought…"

\----------------------------------------------------------

It took Paul a week of wrangling around, but he managed to get some improved generators for the bunker. He was lucky that Roosevelt was keeping his team supplied with important gear, even with the war in Europe winding down. He was thankful that the President was as curious about the ring as he was, though that didn't stop some of the corpsmen from grumbling about having to guard it.

In addition, he managed to acquire a small cart, and, more importantly, a gun camera and some wiring. They rigged the camera to the cart, with a motor and radio-operated pivot. Some more work, and they rigged up a transmitter for the video feed so that they could get the footage in real time. They had a lot of spare parts from Aphrodite to work with to make the pivot, which was a hell of a lot easier than making a plane fly on its own.

They dialed the coordinates Ernest sent, and Paul was surprised to see that the gate made the connection. The increasingly familiar kawoosh sound echoed through the chamber as the techs wheeled the small cart forward. Pushing it with a stick, it made its way through the Doorway slowly. Walking over to a TV screen, Paul looked at the camera feed. The cart was on top of a small dais, much like the one Ernest described where he was, in some kind of field, with trees in the distance. The tech pressed some buttons, and the camera panned left and right. The grainy, black-and-white footage didn't show too much, but he did notice a small pedestal near the gate. However, this most definitely was not the closed room that Ernest had said he was in.

My god, Paul thought as he stood up and crossed his arms. "Maybe Ernest was right; we'll need to send a new diving suit through to him so he can test conditions and-"

"Sir … I've got movement." the tech said, panning the camera to the right.

Squinting at the screen, Paul saw a humanoid figure move toward the cart. Ernest? he thought as the figure approached. Had he gone through after all?

Suddenly, the creature got a lot closer, and Paul let out a small gasp. It definitely was not Ernest; this figure stood at least several inches taller, but, more importantly, it was covered in some kind of chain mail armor and held a staff of some sort, but what truly stood out was the eagle-shaped helmet it wore, which made it seem even taller. At least, Paul thought it was a helmet; for all he knew, it was the creature's natural head.

The being took several steps closer and tilted its head slightly at the cart. The tech panned the camera slightly to get a better look. Suddenly, the being aimed its staff at the cart. The rounded rectangular tip had split open into four sections. It sparked with energy, and then a bolt shot out at the cart, cutting the feed.

"Turn it off … I SAID, TURN IT OFF!" Paul yelled at the techs that were frantically disconnecting cables from the device. The generators had long since been turned off, but the backup power needed disconnecting as well. After several seconds, they had unplugged everything and shut the gate off.

Taking several sharp breaths, Paul Langford looked around the room at the people there. He hastily gathered up the tapes and made his way out the door. He needed to see several very important people right away…

\-----------------------------------------------------------

"Say again, professor?" Ernest asked as Paul filled him on the events that had transpired.

"We're sending more people through, Ernest. A week from now, April first. You… Ernest, you were right; this does seem to be a portal to other places, other worlds. The fact that our probe got destroyed by some energy-staff-wielding alien life form seems proof enough of that, aside from the observations you've made of your location."

"Bu… But we have no clue how we can get home, or even if we can get home at all; we've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how to get me home! And now you want to strand more people here with me? What if we never get home?!"

"Son, this just became a whole lot bigger than we thought!" Paul said sharply, taking Ernest aback. "I'm sorry, I want to do everything I can to make sure you can get home and marry my little girl, but we've just confirmed that there are aliens out there, and they apparently like to shoot things with energy blasts! They probably aren't friendly, Ernest! We're way behind that kind of technology, and the President agrees. He's appropriating some more funds for our project and sending more personnel from the Signal Corps and other parts of the army to assist us. We're looking into bringing some more Egyptologists and linguistics experts to figure out what that text you mentioned is, though most of them are still contracted with the military trying to crack the rest of Jerry and Tojo's codes. But I'm confident we'll be able to get a few of them and send them through."

"Dear God … you're serious. This thing is really expanding, isn't it?"

"It is, Ernest. Listen, I trust you more than anyone else, and you've been there for almost three weeks now. I need you to start looking around the castle to see if there is anything that might be of use to us. I know you've cooped yourself up in that room, but now we need more information. We're sending you more stuff like flashlights and notepads to help you out. Listen, son, I know this isn't what you signed up for, but until we can get more eyes and ears out there, you're our best bet, and once people start arriving at your location, I'm putting you in charge of ES-1."

"Paul, I've never been in charge of anything before. I'm more than happy to look around and see what I can find, but actually ordering people around? I've never done that and … wait, ES-1?"

"Extra-solar Site One. We need a way to name these locations; it's part of our overall structure."

"Structure?"

"That's right, Ernest, structure. This little operation has officially stopped being a fanciful curiosity of the President and is now being incorporated into a greater command structure, all centered on operations involving the Doorway. We've already got two known offworld locations, and if there are more Doorways out there, you can bet we'll find more stuff out there, and if those aliens have ways of invading us, especially if they don't have these Doorways … Well, let me say, I'm pretty sure sneezing on them won't stop an invasion. It takes time to set up a whole new command, but we're working on it. In the meantime, Ernest, I'm counting on you to find us something we can use."

"I'll do my best, Professor. Also, I've been thinking, and we need a better name for the ring than 'Doorway to Heaven.' It's kind of cumbersome, after all. I've got an idea."

"Let's hear it, then."

"It's a gateway to the stars, right? Why not call it a Stargate?" Ernest said.

"I like the sound of that, Ernest. Stargate. I'll make sure to see that it become the official term." Paul said.

"How's Catherine doing?" Ernest asked, changing the subject.

Paul sighed. "I haven't been able to tell her the whole story, Ernest. When I let the higher-ups know we'd gotten it to work, they ordered me to cut the flow of information to anyone not directly involved, which is government bureaucrat talk for 'on the payroll and cleared.' Catherine's involvement was unofficial, so I couldn't tell her exactly what happened without getting treason charges. She knows you're going to be away for a while, related to the project. I'm working on getting her brought back in, but with this new discovery, the aliens out there and everything, it could get a lot harder and give us a few more miles of red tape to navigate before I can bring her back in. I'm not even allowed to pass messages to her because of the secrecy they're wrapping it up in."

Ernest sighed. "Goddamn it. I don't want to lose her, Paul. If she thinks I just left without warning, if you can't get any messages back to her for me ..."

"I'll do what I can to get her cleared, Ernest. I promise you that. I don't want her to lose out on a good man like you. I'm sure she'll understand, when we do get to tell her and when we get you back."

After that talk, several more crates of supplies were sent through before the gate disconnected. After arranging them off to the side, Ernest picked up a new flashlight, a large ball of yarn, and a notebook. Part of him had been curious about what might lay deeper within the castle, but he wanted to remain close in case a way home emerged. But now, with greater operations being planned …

Tying the yarn to the pedestal, Ernest raised his flashlight and began to climb up a staircase that he had noticed earlier. Making sure to leave a trail with the yarn, one end tied around the pedestal, Ernest slowly climbed the stairs to an upper part of the castle. After huffing and climbing several flights, he emerged into a room with several more pedestals.Walking around, he shined his light on the pedestals, and noticed that they had a similar style of writing to what he saw on the Stargate's pedestal and on the faded portions of the wall. The tops of these pedestals were covered in quite the layer of dust. Curious, he swept his hands over one of the pedestals and wiped away the grime, revealing more symbols and tabs. Walking over to another pedestal, he repeated the process, and the same for the third, fourth, and fifth. When he got to the sixth, however, something happened. As he swept his hand over the top of it, several of the tabs lit up with a faint hum. Startled, Ernest leaped back and glanced warily at the illuminated buttons.

They hummed with power, but did nothing else. Ernest's curiosity got the better of him and he went over to the pedestal once more and looked at the illuminated top. Three different buttons were lit up. Reaching out, he pressed the first one and was rewarded with a faint, yellow glow. Turning off his flashlight, he reached out and pressed the second button. Suddenly, the faint, yellow glow filled an area outside the room. Realizing that there were windows at the far end, he ran over and saw that the gate room was now lit up as well. Running back to the pedestal, he pressed the final button.A low hum began to fill the air around him, slowly building up steam as it became louder and louder. Then it began to quiet once more, the remaining pedestals in the room began to illuminate, lighted display screens coming to life. Some of the wall panels illuminated as well. While many were cracked and seemed to struggle to maintain themselves, for Ernest, this was beyond belief, unlike anything he had seen before, like something out of a pulp science fiction magazine. Colored panels … some kind of haptic interface … advanced electronic lighting … it was simply amazing!

Looking down the staircase, he saw that the way down was illuminated as well. With an energy he hadn't had since he first stepped through the gate, Ernest Littlefield raced down the spiral staircase and began to explore the castle with gusto…


	3. Structure of a New Era

Chapter 3

The last month had been hard for Catherine. Her father had come home to their off-base quarters one day without Ernest, which was unusual since the two of them went in and out together almost all the time. When she’d asked her father, he’d told her that something had come up, Ernest had had to leave the country on urgent business related to the project, which was likely to be an indefinite trip, the brass supervising it had ordered a lock on the flow of information about it, cutting out anyone who hadn’t been both officially cleared and officially brought in, and she’d been given a vague non-disclosure agreement to sign that said she was not to speak to anyone about what she’d seen or done with the project, which meant she was effectively out. That had irked her sorely, since the project had only managed to advance further because she had made the suggestion about using different electrical current, on top of her other contributions.

What had really enraged her, to the point where she had nearly broken her hand on the kitchen table form hitting it so hard, had been the fact that, according to Paul, due to the secrecy involved, Ernest was effectively under a communications blackout. Catherine couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t gone more than a day without seeing Ernest, or more than a few hours without talking to him. She hated being alone, and alone she was; whatever was brewing with the ring had her father out of the house for sometimes days at a time. When she’d confronted her father about the situation three days ago, when she finally broke down over her anger and grief about having effectively been abandoned by Ernest because of the project, he’d only shrugged.

“Catherine, I’m working on doing everything I can to help Ernest get back here, as well as getting you back in, in an official capacity. The way things are, though, it’s going to take a long time before I convince the right people that we can use you, that you can meet their requirements for clearance. I want to tell you, I really do. I want you to be a part of this, because it wouldn’t be where it is without your help. I want you to be able to hear from Ernest again. I know you love him, and I know it’s hard being away from him. He’s like a son to me already, Catherine, and I miss him, too. If I can get you back in, I’ll be able to tell you everything, and maybe that will help. Honestly, though, we thought he’d be back soon enough. It didn’t seem like something that should take this long”

Catherine had fumed and pouted at that, but had let the matter drop. And last night, things had changed. Her father had promised they would have dinner together, and Catherine had gone to meet him at his office outside the lab. When she’d arrived, she’d noticed her father and another man talking. He looked to be about ten years older than Catherine, tall and lean, with close-cropped dark brown hair and eyes. They’d stopped talking before Catherine could get within earshot, and her father had smiled at her. “Catherine, this is Captain Samuel Marcus. Captain Marcus, this is my daughter, Catherine.”

Catherine had extended her hand, and Captain Marcus took it, had leaned forward into a bow as he raised it to his lips. “A pleasure, Ms. Langford.”

She’d giggled, drawing a disapproving stare from her father. “The pleasure is mine, Captain.” she’d said breathily. She didn’t know what it was, but there was something enthralling and attractive about the man. “And, please, call me Catherine. Formality has never been my strong suit.” she’d added.

“Well, Catherine, you can call me Samuel, then.” the man had smiled that dashing smile of his, the one that showed so plainly that he had a charisma about him.

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Samuel?” Catherine asked.

“I’ve been transferred here, assigned to the project your father’s working on in an auxiliary capacity. I’m going to be spending a while familiarizing myself with the project, and once that’s done, I’ll begin acting as a go-between, collecting relevant information that may help it from the myriad of other projects the government’s working on.”

Catherine couldn’t help the plan that formulated in her mind. If Samuel was on the shortlist of approved personnel, maybe he’d be able to find out what had happened to Ernest. She just had to make him want to help her.

She’d given a coy smile. “Father,” she said, taking on her best ‘Please, daddy?’ voice, “Perhaps Captain Marcus would like to join us for dinner?”

Her father had stared at her. “Catherine, I don’t think that’s an appropriate…”

“Forgive me, Doctor Langford, Catherine, but I do have other plans. I would like to join you another time, but tonight will not do. I believe, if we are to have a successful work relationship, we should be comfortable on a personal level.”

“Agreed. Another time, then. Until then, good day.”

With that, they’d parted, and Catherine was anxiously awaiting the chance to begin her plan.

\----------------------------------------------------

For Paul Langford, it was incredible, to see his life's work take on a whole new dynamic. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the curious stone circle he found in Giza almost twenty years ago would be a portal to the stars, and neither would he imagine that he would suddenly be foisted in charge of a small army of various personnel, between technicians, supply officers, scholars, doctors, engineers, and even soldiers (who were none too pleased to be here rather than fighting overseas). Still, everything had been going relatively swimmingly.

Ernest had managed to find some kind of power switch in the castle he was stuck in and had busied himself with exploring the location. He reported that he found more of the two strange writings on several more walls, and just as they had prepared to send the first group of personnel through, he reported an even more amazing find. Apparently, he had discovered another strange pedestal in the castle. Only this one, instead of copying the pattern of the ring, was some kind of light projector. Ernest still wasn't sure what it was about, but the sheer volume of information that he believed to be present in the device was incredibly tantalizing, so much so that Paul was half-tempted to go through with the first wave to see for himself, but with no definite way home yet, he knew he could ill-afford to go on such an indulgent trip. From the basic description, it almost sound like the projections were atomic representations being used as some kind of code, but Ernest hadn't yet been able to start any kind of translation attempt.

Langford walked slowly up the small ramp that had been installed leading up to the device. Behind him, a group of sixty individuals stood. Volunteers of various backgrounds, who had been vaguely informed about a great discovery that their expertise would be useful to, but also the likelihood that they might never return. There were several scientists, linguists, engineers, technicians, and, perhaps most importantly, a squad of sour-faced soldiers, all wearing a blue patch shaped like an upside-down teardrop with red flames at the bottom and a buzzard superimposed over a parachute with the number 517 in red above the buzzard and the word "Attack" in white on a red banner below. They were members of the 517th Parachute Infantry Regiment, which was under the command of the 13th Airborne. He'd read a bit about them in the profiles he'd been given; apparently, the 517th had been involved in heavy fighting in Italy before participating in their first combat jump in Operation Dragoon before later fighting in the Ardennes Counteroffensive, and, most recently, the 13th Airborne had initially been slated to participate in Operation Varsity, but a lack of transports put the kibosh on that, and now, with Germany on the ropes, it looked like their Division wasn't going to see combat. When the discrete selection process for people to come into the command of the project, they'd received a surprising number of applications from the 13th, though Langford suspected the men were still disappointed they wouldn't be fighting Jerry or Tojo.

Well, it was time to cheer them up. Clearing his lungs with a loud cough, the small whispers from below the platform ceased, and all eyes were on him.

"Good afternoon." he began, "I appreciate all of you coming on such short notice, and with the utmost discretion. I understand some of you were deep within military projects, or," he said, gesturing to the Airborne men, "awaiting deployment when you received this group's offer. I understand that it was vague and you must have many questions, and now that all those forms you filled out earlier have been filed, I can finally tell you all what's going on and why you're here., and rest assured, it is quite important." He gestured toward the device with a hand. "This … well, how can I say it? This may be the most important discovery ever made by the United Sta… no, by humanity. This ring was discovered by my team and I in Egypt nearly two decades ago, but we could never quite figure out what it was until roughly a month ago, when we activated it. It turns out that this stone circle … is actually an ancient alien artifact."

This elicited some responses, the scientists murmuring among themselves and the soldiers standing up straighter. He did hear a few snickers and chuckles from the crowd as well

"I'm dead serious." he said, his voice not betraying the excitement he felt inside. "One month ago, my son-in-law-to-be, Doctor Ernest Littlefield, went through the device, which we call the Stargate, and ended up on an alien planet. He's discovered several new pieces of technology and other things that humankind has never discovered before. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to facilitate his return, and that's why we asked for people willing to make a one-way trip. While we're confident that we will eventually figure out how to get him and whoever joins him home, we … cannot make it a guarantee. There is a chance that, when you step through the portal that forms when this device activates, you may never be able to return to Earth, never see the people you know and love again. I understand this is a heavy task to ask of anyone, but we need more firsthand information and expertise on site, and that can only be accomplished by going through.

"However, since we couldn't possibly explain this in writing when we made the offer, due to the understandable risk of causing panic, we're offering you all one last chance to back out of the front-line duty on this project. You'll still be attached to this program, but will remain Earthside, still subject to the confidentiality agreements you signed. Earthside, he thought. That's going to take some getting used to.

Looking back to the crowd, he spoke once more. "Anyone who wishes to back out is free to do so now."

The crowd began to mill about, the civilians nervously chattering away with each other, many reluctant to leave their lives behind, potentially forever. The soldiers were split, some looking at each other with wide-eyed grins about the possibility of going to other planets hundreds, if not possibly thousands of light-years away from Earth, apparently fans of pulp science fiction magazines, but some of the other, older soldiers shared the reluctance of the civilians. A few people even began to move toward the door.

That was when the 2nd Lieutenant for the squad, an older, recently commissioned officer, walked forward and spoke up, quieting the crowd around him.

"Why do you need us?" he asked. "This seems like something for the civvies. Why take a squad from the front lines for this? It seems kind of wasteful." His tone was serious, but Paul could detect a small, biting undercurrent, as though the officer knew there was more to the situation than what Paul had said.

"Because, while I believe this device makes it clear that we are not alone in the universe, what I haven't made clear is that there is apparently hostile alien life out there."

There was nothing for several seconds, until a private spoke up, his voice cracking into a hoarse tone. "What?"

"We've actually dialed, that is to say, we've actually made a viable, travel-friendly connection with, two planets. The first one, of course, is the planet Dr. Littlefield is on, and the second is a planet he discovered, using a pedestal that appears to be the original control mechanism for the Stargate to make a connection. We sent a small cart with a camera and video transmitter through, and discovered an armored alien entity that stood at almost seven feet tall, including the giant, eagle-shaped helmet it wore. It carried a staff that fired some kind of energy blast, which it used to destroy the cart. The reason we need soldiers is because we're not sure how numerous those things are, and we need to protect the site if they are hostile, or if there are other hostiles out there. That's the main reason we're pushing for this exploration: if those things exist in large numbers on more planets, with the apparent level of technology they have, they are more than likely capable of wiping us out, should they desire it. We could bury the gate like the ancient Egyptians apparently did, stop them from using it to invade, but what if they have ships? What if they can cross the void between the stars easily? There are too many unknowns; we have no choice but to explore and find more technology and tools that we can use to defend the Earth and our homes in the event we find ourselves in a real life War Of The Worlds."

The room was silent for several more seconds, some of the crowd looked at Paul with shock in their eyes, some looked down, and a few even crossed themselves and muttered small prayers. The lieutenant just stood still for several more seconds before he spoke again. "So, you need some help keeping the good ol' USA safe from some spacemen? I think the 517th can help you out with that. Am I right, men?" he shouted to the soldiers behind him, who gave him a loud cheer. Turning to face his men, he shouted, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you, soldiers! Is the Airborne going to let some trigger-happy space freaks land their tin cans on Roosevelt's front lawn?! Are we going to let their ugly asses march through that ring?!"

"Sir, no, sir!" the soldiers yelled in unison.

Turning back to Langford, the lieutenant gave him a crisp nod. "Alpha Squad is ready to depart, sir." The soldiers took several steps forward and milled closely around the bottom of the gate's ramp. The civilians took more time, still discussing it among themselves, but one by one, they too slowly gravitated toward the ramp. Not one person backed away.

Paul smiled; he nodded to the technicians, who began to rotate the gate. As the soldiers and civilians began to gather their belongings and move the crates into their final positions, Paul took several steps toward the sergeant and lowered his voice.

"Thank you." he said. "I'm not much good at inspiring confidence; I'm glad you're on board with this."

"Doctor Langford," the lieutenant said, "I've got a wife and a little boy back home. I'd rather not be stranded on an alien dust ball if at all possible." he said, the faint drawl becoming more evident with his lowered voice. Definitely Texas, Paul thought. "But, if this makes sure…" the lieutenant gestured with his hand, "that whatever is out there doesn't come here, I'm more than willing to go through that gate and so are my boys. We won't disappoint."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Lieutenant…" Paul said, extending his hand. "I apologize; I'm still getting familiar with names."

Clasping Paul's hand, the lieutenant gave three sharp pumps before dropping his arm. "Hammond." he said. "Don Hammond."

As the last chevron locked into place, the gate sprung to life, and the wave of energy shot out, startling some of the people present. Fortunately, the cordon set up in front of it had kept everyone out of the danger zone.

"Three things to remember with gate travel!" Paul called over the din. "One: DO. NOT. STAND. In front of that wave; it destroys everything in its path. Two: The gate is one-way only, from origin planet to destination planet. If you try coming back without dialing from your location, you never come out. Finally, keep moving after you emerge; we don't want a traffic jam that could push people back in; we're not eager to find out anything more than the aforementioned never returning thing about what happens in that case. We've packed enough supplies to keep you all self-sufficient for a couple of months, but we'll stay in regular contact and send the odd package through when needed. Good luck, and godspeed!"

Stepping to the side, he watched as Lieutenant Hammond slung his Thompson over his shoulder and picked up two large cases. The lieutenant stepped up the ramp, stopping just in front of the event horizon. The soldiers behind him wheeled up several crates and held position on the ramp. Taking one last look behind him, Don Hammond stepped through the portal. Soon, the soldiers and civilians all began to follow, and one by one each disappeared beyond the portal and soon the ramp was empty.

"Everyone's through." Ernest's voice said over the radio.

Standing on the ramp until long after the gate shut off, Paul stared at the ring. Everything had moved so fast, and yet it was still going to keep picking up pace. They had been slightly behind schedule bringing the soldiers in, but Paul believed that they would be well worth the extra time. "April 1st, 1945." he mused aloud. "The day we established a base on another planet."

Even though the world didn't know it just yet, humanity had just taken its first great leap into a new era.


	4. It's Heliopolis, damn it!

Chapter 4

The next few days were a blur for Ernest as the new personnel who came through began to set up camp. After the initial large group, a few more smaller groups came through, mostly a couple more squads bringing more gear to establish a more secure foothold and ensure the gate room's safety. Lieutenant Hammond made sure to keep all of the soldiers in line, but for the most part, he left the civilians alone, which both relieved and frustrated Ernest to no end. Relieved because he didn't have to butt heads with the military, but frustrated because he was still technically "in-charge" of everything, and he still had very little idea of how to lead a small but growing encampment and expedition in a massive alien structure on a foreign planet. At least the soldiers followed Hammond, but the civilians, the various scientists, technicians, linguists, and other who came through all looked to him for leadership.

Some of it was easy. He deferred to the engineers and technicians in regards to surveying the castle and construction. It was still remarkably stable despite the strong weathering of the stones in the castle. Still, he wanted to take no chances and ordered most of the structural engineers to go over the location and make sure everything would be all right for the short term and reinforce anything that might need reinforcing. The technicians were assigned to start setting up various pieces of equipment for the humans to use. The alien control panels and interfaces were still confusing and no one wanted to chance pressing something until everyone had a firm grasp of what the hell they were saying.

The linguists had been having some difficulty with the location, not helped by the fact that there were two main types of alien writing. The older text on the walls, control panels, and interfaces seemed to be some kind of Latin form, but with its own unique flavors and styles, particularly the substitution cipher that they’d mistaken at first for a wholly alien script, that made it difficult to work off of other known forms of the language as a baseline. The newer text was similarly derived from an Egyptian root, but, once again, had distinct dialectical variations that made it quite distinct from ancient Egyptian on Earth. Still, it seemed like they might be nearing a breakthrough soon, at least with some of the base hieroglyphs of the newer language. He was hoping for something he could give back to the professor in a future report.

Currently, he was pinning his hopes on the strange device he had found further back in the base. He'd noticed that, as he went further and further from the gate room, the newer writing quickly disappeared, and the older one remained. In the room with the light projector device, they'd encountered an additional three languages, all far more alien in origin and completely indecipherable at this point, in addition to the Latin-like one. When he had first activated the device, the symbols that appeared in the air confused him. Quickly, however, he'd realized that each dot of light was actually an atom; the single proton-electron pair of hydrogen had given him the clue. But there were far more elements here than Earth had known about. It had to be some kind of constructed language, using one of the most basic concepts of physics and chemistry, something that any advanced race would have knowledge of. If they could find something that helped make it clear what each element was associated with in terms of this form of communication, maybe they could crack it. If they could figure it out, or just figure out what else lay in the device, then who knew what the team could discover.

Another issue, however, had come up when they realized that the planet didn't have the same rotational period as Earth; their estimates put its day at 26 hours. They would have to work out clocks specifically for the planet if they intended their operation to have any long-term synchronicity with the planet's timetables.

As Ernest stood around tapping his notepad with his pen, he looked up to see the progress the military teams were making. Most were moving about silently, doing their best to fortify the gate room. Hammond was supervising the men installing a couple of thirty cals to a fallen beam. Other soldiers were pulling pre-filled sandbags from one of the wheeled crates and setting up nests and cover to hide behind. All Ernest knew was that it had been incredibly difficult to pull several large crates that weighed so much through the gate. They'd set up the middle room in between the sleeping quarters, hologram room, and gate room as an armory to store all the weapons. The lieutenant (with Ernest's permission, of course) had started training some of the civilians in handgun usage, using the large window openings as a backdrop and some empty C-ration cans as targets. With unknown potential aliens out there, at least one known likely hostile force, and no reliable way to physically return to Earth yet, it seemed like a logical thing to do. Ernest himself was rapidly getting familiar with the M1911, though a few service revolvers were also in the arsenal and favored by some of the personnel. A couple of technicians were even training with some of the spare Garands that were brought through. The fact that they received semi-regular supply shipments from Earth meant that they could afford to expend some of the spare ammunition to train.

As he continued to watch the soldiers set up the fortifications near the gate room, Lieutenant Hammond walked over and rested his back against the pillar next to Ernest. He pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Ernest. "Dr. Littlefield, we've finished up the inventory of what we have out there," he gestured to the gate room fortifications, "and what we have in the gate room as surplus."

"Excellent!" Ernest said, flipping over to a blank page in his notebook; he preferred to have everything written down, and preferably multiple copies. "What have we got?"

"Well, it's a mix of good news and bad news. Good news is that we won't be hurting for ammo, even with all the extra training. We've got plenty of boxes and spare cartridges, as well as plenty of spare belts for the MGs. In addition, in the event of an attack, we have enough small arms to make sure everyone in the base will have at least one weapon. The room above makes for natural high ground, so we've stuck a couple of MGs up there, and we have two men patrolling with B.A.R.s as well. If anything comes through, the upper floor can rain down death. Then you have our lower fortifications. We have interlocking sections of sandbags, using some of the fallen beams as a supplement. We've fastened another set of MGs down here to help."

"What's the bad news?"

"Well, it's kind of a quantity and quality problem. Specifically, the quality of some weapons and our lack of some other pieces of gear." Hammond said, flipping over his paper. "We only have the four MGs, and we've already fastened them down, but truth be told, we could probably do with a couple more, even set up a few additional safe points in this castle if we want. In addition, we have no heavy explosives, no bazookas, only a handful of grenades, and just the two B.A.R.s. We also have no shotguns, and, given that this is a castle, they're something we're probably going to want if we are truly going to make this castle as defensible as possible. Plus, shotguns are something else that the civilians can use; they're easier to use and train with, and you don't really need to be that accurate. In terms of quality … Well, the MGs we're using are Model 1917's, and while they're fine, I'd prefer the 1919's. They use the same caliber, but the latter has a better cooling rate. They're both light machine guns, and I'd like us to have one or two M2's if possible; short of a tank, nothing can withstand a fifty-caliber bullet.

"In terms of our fortifications… well, we're doing our best, but, to be totally honest, Doctor, for a castle, this place is remarkably open. The gate room itself is fairly contained, and that can work against us as well since it's reasonably close from the gate to the sandbags. If a group had a really dedicated charge, or if they could more something well-armored through first, then a lot of our effectiveness might be reduced. If they can overwhelm the sandbags, it's a straight shot to the stairs. This is all assuming conventional, human tactics as well; if we're dealing with aliens, who knows what sort of contraptions they might have and what kind of tactics their technologies favor."

As Ernest finished scribbling down the lieutenant's words, he surveyed the room. Hammond was right; the sandbags were only a few yards from the gate. While concentrated fire would certainly be deadly, he could see the lieutenant's viewpoint, that some kind of protection moving ahead of the invaders could negate a lot of the combat effectiveness of the machine guns. Tapping his pen to the notepad, he looked over at the lieutenant.

"I'll definitely see about most of these, the shotguns, B.A.R.s, and machine guns. Professor Langford mentioned that Roosevelt approved more funding and requisition for us, with the European theater of operations winding down, some supplies can afford to be diverted, so we should get at least some of that. The explosives, I'm not sure about. We're still not entirely sure how stable this castle is and we're not quite willing to risk having stuff that could bring it down on top of us, but, again, it's alien engineering and construction, so if we can figure out that this thing isn't going to collapse if we set off an explosion or two, we might be able to get more decent explosives." Ernest said.

Hammond nodded as he stood straight up and began to walk back toward his men. "I appreciate that, Dr. Littlefield. Thank you for hearing me out." he said.

As Ernest began to write in his notepad once more, one of the linguists assigned to the team came running up the stairs. Running toward the gate, he leaped over a half-complete sandbag foxhole to the annoyance of the soldiers he'd jumped over and ran to the gate. Wheeling around, he looked up at one of the horizontal beams still attached to the ceiling and began to furiously write in his notepad.

Curious, Ernest walked over to him, reaching the linguist just as he finished writing. Racking his brains, Ernest tried to remember the man's name. It started with an S.

"Dr. Littlefield!" he said, looking over at Ernest and breaking the expedition leader's concentration. "I was going over the hieroglyphs in the hallway leading to the light room when I noticed a pattern. Now, these patterns are very similar to an ancient dialect that was written near Giza and Saqqara, though some records of it also exist in archives pulled from ruins in Memphis. Now, by backtracking and ascribing some of the hieroglyphs that had the same meaning on Earth, I made a rough outline of a translator for the Egyptian here. It's not perfect, and there might be some gaps, especially with some of the more complicated sentences and sentence structures, which is why I came here, where the big and simple sentence was written above the gate an…" the linguist took a pause to remember to inhale at last. Ernest looked up at the hieroglyphs on the beam, he hadn't noticed them before.

"Huh. Didn't see those when I came through, though my helmet might have blocked some of that." he thought aloud.

"Are you kidding? Those were the first things I saw!" the linguist said, thrusting his notepad into Ernest's hands. "That's the translation I've worked out; took a few tries to get it right, though, but I'm sure this is it."

"Thanks …er." Ernest said, looking at the notes.

"Stevens, Robert Stevens!" the linguist said, not looking away from the hieroglyphs.

Looking down, Ernest saw the note, complete with scribbles and struck-through sentences:

~~The Glorious Summer Palace of Ra! Dominion of Land~~

~~~~

~~Center of Worship, Temple of Ra!~~

~~~~

~~Heliopolis, Land of Ra~~

~~~~

~~Temple of Ra, Heliopolis~~

~~~~

~~Prize of Ra, Heliopolis Tem~~

Until the final, circled sentence caught his eye:

THE GRAND TEMPLE OF HELIOPOLIS, PRIZE OF THE SUPREME LORD RA

The Castle finally had a name …


	5. Gods? Maybe, maybe not.

Chapter 5

"Ra? As in the Egyptian god Ra?" Professor Langford asked incredulously.

"Yes, Professor. Ra. We're sure of it." Ernest said.

"Are you saying that Ra was real?"

"Not at all, Professor. Well, not a real god, in any case. More likely, the Egyptian religion was either adopted by the ancient Egyptians from these aliens, or vice-versa. It's also possible that Ra alien entity who either assumed the identity of Ra or inspired him in the first place. Whatever the case may be, the wording of the title for this place, coupled with the obvious signs that the Egyptian text was added later, suggests that this Ra entity or the religious followers, depending on which theory's true, captured it from its previous owners, and, apparently, abandoned it later."

“Are you sure about anything in this situation?” Langford asked.

“No, Paul, I'm not. Anything's possible. We figured that out when I walked through that ring and found myself on an entirely different world. Maybe he was an alien entity. Maybe these aliens visited earth and simply adopted the religion. Maybe they adopted it from the Egyptians. Any of these are possible. But we don't know for sure. I think it's reasonable to operate on the assumption that we don't have a goddamned clue what the truth is, and therefore that we have to consider all the possibilities.”

"Here's something to consider, Ernest: the ancient Egyptians were polytheistic. It's possible that, depending on the origin of the cross-link between whatever alien civilization took Heliopolis over and the ancient Egyptians, that there are different sects of this alien species, following different gods. And they could be out there."

"I have, Professor. And I'm certain that one of these theories is correct. I don't know which one, but there's enough evidence to support that we're on the right track there. there is an undeniable link between the ancient Egyptians and whoever vandalized this castle with the Egyptian text. And there's one more piece of evidence to consider. You and I, we both know a recurring theme in Egyptian mythology is animal heads on human bodies. Horus, Thoth, and Ra, for example, were all depicted quite often with bird heads."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying, son?"

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking, yes I am, Professor. It's entirely possible that the Eagle Warrior you caught on film is a servant of one of those 'gods,' or at least a follower of the religion. I know it's not a pleasant thought, but we have to consider it. This civilization may well be alive and kicking and itching for a fight with anybody who crosses their path. We don't know. We need to learn more. We need to do this as empirically as possible. We look at the available evidence, postulate our theories based on the evidence, and look for further proof of the validity of the theories. Until we know more, we have to look at all the possible conclusions."

\--------------------------------------------

Lieutenant Hammond and Ernest were sitting at a table, hunched over some diagrams that one of the engineers had made. It was a map of the area surrounding the gate room, including the recent fortifications. They were talking about further possibilities for defense when two people, one a soldier, the other an engineer, walked over. The engineer cleared his throat, and Ernest and Don looked at them. The engineer was clutching a notepad nervously.

"Something you boys want to say?" the Lieutenant asked. The two subordinates nodded. "Well, don't just stand there! Spit it out."

The soldier, a corporal who's nametag read Simmons, spoke. "Sir, I've been thinking about how to defend this place better, and so has Alfred here. We were talking, and we realized something. There are two main ways to handle the risk of an alien invasion through the Stargate. Repulsion, forcing them to retreat or surrender…"

The engineer, Alfred, took over. "And prevention, keeping them from coming through in the first place." he placed the notepad down, showing that the page it was open to had a diagram on it. "I give you the Stargate Incursion Prevention System, or SIPS. You see, we drill into the ceiling above and immediately in front of the Stargate, sink some hooks into it. We put a bar on those hooks. Coming down from the bar is either a grate of bars welded together on this side, or a solid plate, again, welded together from smaller segments sent through the gate from Earth. You attach a cable to the bottom of the cover, which then runs up to a pulley suspended from another beam. It goes over the pulley, and connects to a motorized winch. When the cover is lowered, anything that comes through will hit it and rebound into the gate, thereby being neutralized. For added security, drill some holes into the dais and attach some bolts to the plate that can slide into the holes to anchor it at the base so it doesn't just swing open. Now, the obvious downside is that you have to wait until the gateway is established to drop it, or the energy wave will vaporize the barrier."

"So, standard operating procedure would involve dropping the barrier every time a connection is successfully established?" Hammond asked.

"Yes, sir. And before you ask about the possibility of friendlies coming through and getting bounced back in, I've already thought of that. You give each group that you send through a radio and a single-use return code that they have to send over the radio to have us lift the barricade. It could be a code phrase or even just a bit of Morse code. Either way, something that would definitively verify the identity of the team coming through."

"Lowering the barrier electronically with the winch would be slow." Ernest said.

"That's why you have a winch that you can just flip into an unlocked, free-rotating setting. Gravity and the barrier's own weight will slam the door shut." Alfred said.

Simmons spoke. "Also, sir, we need to conduct an experiment regarding the gate. The results of this experiment will determine the viability of an additional defensive possibility."

"What kind of experiment?" Hammond asked

"We want to shoot a bullet at an open gate from behind." Simmons replied.

"What?" Ernest interjected.

"So far, we've observed that the gateway appears to only deposit matter out of one side. Add to that the fact that you can't see through the portal when it's active, and think about the possibilities. You can set up a weapon behind the gate. It opens, enemies somehow blast their way through the barrier, they come through … and a machine gun mows them down from behind. Sending some kind of protection through first isn't going to work when the threat comes from behind. But that will only work if objects can pass through the back of the wormhole unaffected." Alfred said.

"I'll talk to Earth about the experiment. Just one bullet, right?" Ernest asked.

"That's right. At least, to start with." Simmons said.

"What?" Hammond asked.

"Sir, even if one bullet can pass through unaffected, we would have no idea if a significant amount of ammo would alter the results. I want to let a machine gun have a couple of seconds of fire." Simmons said.

"We're willing to wait until we've found two additional addresses, so that we can conduct the experiment without risking potential harm to Earth or Heliopolis. Simply put an observation team on either end, and you're good to go." Alfred said.

"We'll pass the suggestion on to Earth." Sergeant Hammond said. "Anything else?"

"No, sir." Simmons said, and the two departed.

Hammond looked at Ernest. "Pretty good suggestion, blocking the gate." he said.

"Yes, it is. I'm sure Earth will approve. They may even implement a similar precaution on their end. Just in case any of the hostiles out there decide to check and see if they can get to Earth … Assuming they have Earth's address, of course." Ernest said.

"We need to start thinking about how we're going to go about exploration when we have more locations to go to." Hammond said. "I've been thinking: take two of the squads, assign linguists and scientists to them, and then start sending them through the gate. Obviously, it's far too risky to send them through to ES-2 right now, since there may be a lot more of those Eagle Warrior bastards there, so I figure we start trying more combinations with the pedestal. Get a few pressurized atmospheric diving suits, make sure they're as close to airtight as possible. See if we can get a few more camera probes built and sent out here. If we find a viable connection, send a probe through to confirm that the path is clear and the gate isn't in some position that'll kill someone we send through, then send a gate diver through to test the conditions. Maybe get a bunch of lab rats, put one in an open-air cage, and send it through with each gate diver. If it dies, we know the conditions are fatal, and if it doesn't, we know it's safe to send a scouting team through. I'd recommend we lose identifiable uniforms, though. Any kind of indicator about Earth could be problematic in the event of capture by hostile forces. Eventually, however, we're going to have to risk going to ES-2 in any case."

"Why?" Ernest asked, although he had an inkling of an idea of what the sergeant's reasoning was.

"Information. We need prisoners or other lines of communication for that. We'll have to send a team to ES-2 and attempt to either make legitimate peaceful contact or capture at least one Eagle Warrior and kill any that we can't take alive; we can't risk word of us getting back to others if they do prove hostile. Even dead, though, we can still learn things from them; I'm sure some people would love to do an alien autopsy. Take the dead back with us as well as the prisoners, and we can begin knowing our enemy, if indeed they are hostile. And maybe leave the enemy wondering what the hell happened. They use energy weapons, after all; what's to say they'll even know about projectile weapons like firearms? As far as they're concerned, it may be like a bunch of their people just disappeared. Maybe they'll wonder at what could do something like that."

“Hmm, that all sounds good. Of course, I do hope they aren’t hostile, and that our previous encounter was due to some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe the creature tried to communicate with the probe, but not in any way we could pick up. Possibly some kind of advanced communications system beyond radio.” Ernest said as he finished inking down the suggestions. "For the diving suits, enclosed atmospheric systems are a definite plus over the standard diving dress. Don't want to risk a scare like I had when I stepped through. Different uniforms I can get behind as well, I’ll see what we can come up with. You mentioned teams for exploration, we’ll need to figure out team size and composition. We now have three squads here, so thirty six soldiers. Do we want to send a full strength squad through when we explore? If we’re going to be adding a linguist and scientist to the group then we’d have 14 people going through, which while I know I’m not the most well versed person in military matters, could be a bit cumbersome. On the other hand, more people give more security for off world operations, heck we could probably leave a small detachment to guard the gate while another group explores.”

“That’s a good point, smaller numbers can generally enable faster movement, but leaves more room open for problems to happen. I like the idea of being able to keep some guys around to secure the gate while others go out. Again we’ll have to hammer out some more of the details later, and I’ll talk to my men to get some ideas, but I think we might have to approach this with a safety in numbers mentality.” The two men talked for several more minutes figuring out more details about deployments, compositions and other miscellaneous bookkeeping matters.

\---------------------------------------

The next day, it looked like the defenses might get their first test, and the 517th would get some more combat. The next scheduled check-in from Earth wasn't for another day, so when the gate started to activate, the automatic conclusion was the possibility of an incursion. The defenses were manned and ready for combat. The energy wave exploded outward, and it had barely dissipated when Professor Langford's voice came over the radio. "This is Professor Paul Langford. Ernest, are you there?"

Ernest answered the call. "Yes, Paul. I'm here. What is it? The scheduled check in isn't until tomorrow."

"Roosevelt's dead, Ernest." Paul said.The gate room, which had been buzzing with murmured speculation from the people present, fell deathly quiet, a comparison which Ernest found oddly appropriate. He couldn't think for a few moments, finally managing a "What?"

"He died earlier today." Paul said. "Truman's taking over. I'm scheduled to brief him on this whole operation tomorrow. He knows some of the details already, I've been told, but not the full scope of things. Not the enormity of the potential threat. I hope that we've got enough to convince him to keep us operational."


	6. Harry, it's a doozy

Chapter 6

Dr. Langford was not good at waiting. While he was always happy to have time for his thoughts, actively sitting around with them was something he didn't quite enjoy. Sitting in the hallway chair, he drummed his fingers against the side of his briefcase and waited some more. It didn't help that his nerves were showing a bit; this meeting would be critical to the program.

He'd started the project with permission from President Roosevelt; most of the early equipment and contributions were items that the president had authorized to program via executive orders, and once things started to pick up, more and more resources were allocated accordingly via several more such orders. It helped that, with the war, shifting some supplies around the nation hadn't been too difficult. In addition, the setup allowed the chain of supply to remain relatively uncomplicated and straightforward; Langford would send a message to the president, and results would happen. It had been a good system, and one he'd enjoyed.

Sadly, Roosevelt had passed away two days prior.

Professor Paul Langford was disappointed by the fact that the uncomplicated method of acquiring supplies for his program was gone, but, more importantly, he was saddened that a good friend, and one who had shared many professional and academic interests, was now gone. He'd mourned for his friend, and the base, as well as Heliopolis (as many were calling it now, in keeping with the known name that once been used as the place's title), had had a day of mourning to honor the president.

Paul had received the call that he knew was coming several hours after Franklin's death. The new president was calling him in to explain what exactly was going on in the warehouse. The meeting had been put off for a day to allow the president to get brought up to speed on a number of other programs and plans that were apparently considered a good deal more important and at least as classified and restricted access as the Stargate. In that time, Paul had prepared a small film reel detailing several of the main discoveries made on the base and on Heliopolis (the techs had gotten a wireless transmitter up and running, so limited video feeds could be sent back and recorded for posterity). He had the documents and various proposals in the briefcase as well. He hoped that it would be enough. It had to be.

He returned to drumming his fingers on the briefcase as he continued to wait. A secretary was busy typing away at her desk, glancing up periodically and smiling, as though to reassure Paul that everything would be all right. After several more minutes, the phone at her desk rang. Without skipping a beat, she picked it up: "Yes?… Okay, I'll send him in, Mr. President." Looking to Paul, she set the phone down and smiled once more. "The President will see you now, Dr. Langford."

Nodding, Paul stood up and walked to the heavy oak door. Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and entered the Oval Office. Harry Truman was sitting at his desk, several papers in front of him, with maps and details and equations Paul didn't know about. Standing next to Truman were General George Marshall and Secretary of War Henry Stimson. Seeing Paul enter, the president deftly collected the papers and arranged them in a neat stack to the side.

"…We'll discuss the device and testing later, thank you for getting me caught up. Now to this next matter." Standing up, the president extended his hand as Paul approached the desk. "Dr. Langford, thank you for coming in. Sorry the meeting got pushed back; I had a lot of catching up to do … and a lot of big shoes to fill."

"I understand, Mr. President." Paul said, taking Truman's hand and returning two quick shakes before sitting. "I'm just happy I was brought in to bring you up to speed on my program."

"Ah, yes, let's get right down to business then. George has been telling me that one of our airborne divisions has been getting rerouted back here, and that several million dollars’ worth of supplies have been shifted over to your program … which according to our records doesn't officially exist. I wanted George and Henry here so that everything could be explained more thoroughly. Doctor, would you please enlighten us as to what's going on?"

Nodding, Paul set his briefcase down and opened it. He extracted the film reel and set it down. "Certainly. Would you mind if I borrowed a film projector?"

"No problem." The president said, motioning to his guards. One of them opened a door and wheeled out a small projector on a pedestal, while the other guard dimmed the lights. Paul hooked the reel up and positioned the projector so that it projected against the far wall. Paul waited several seconds for it to warm up before it started, first with a shot of the inactive gate in the warehouse.

"Two decades ago, in 1928, myself and a small archeology team discovered this ring-shaped artifact in Giza, Egypt. We had no clue what it was or what the markings on it signified. We've spent many years trying to figure out what it does." The reel began to show the gate technicians attaching cords and rotating the ring. "We could move the inner symbols, but had no idea what it would do. During a random test, we noticed that it would respond to large quantities of power, so we began to hook up generators to it to see what would happen. This went on for a while, our random input of symbols, until earlier this year." The reel shifted to the day when they activated the gate. The seventh symbol locked, and the gate activated, sending out the large wave of energy before retreating and forming a tranquil pool in the gate's center.

The president's eyebrow raised slightly, but none of the men said anything. Paul continued as the reel showed Ernest suiting up in the diving gear and preparing to step through. "My future son-in-law, Doctor Ernest Littlefield, volunteered to go through. Once he stepped beyond the gate… he was transported to another world, and I mean that in the literal sense. The device, now definitively alien in origin, sent him to another planet, a fact he ascertained by the absence of the moon and any known constellations at his location."

The reel cut to the interior of Heliopolis. Several soldiers were milling about. Then the control room, with the strange, illuminated panels, and then again to the light projector room, in its active state, with one scientist moving amongst the swirling shapes.

"For almost a month now, we've been establishing some form of operations on Heliopolis, the name we've given the planet. For the most part, at first, it was just Ernest, unable to return, exploring the location. At the start of the month, though, we sent the first of several groups through the gate. Scientist, technicians, linguists, and soldiers…"

The reel cut to its final few moments, the part Langford considered most important: the makeshift probe's video feed shortly before its destruction. Paul heard several sharp intakes of breath when the creature with the staff shot several bolts of light at the camera before it cut off.

"While Ernest tried to reconnect with earth, dialing blindly much as we had, he found a second gate address. We sent a small cart with a camera and transmitter through. That's what was on the other side. That's why we've been appropriating military resources for the project and 'borrowing' one of the airborne divisions." Paul explained as he disconnected the reel from the camera and placed it in its tin before setting it down on the president's desk. The three men were staring at Paul, all three quite serious, but with a hint of surprise behind their eyes. Paul decided to give them a moment or two to soak up the information and process it.

The President removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose for several seconds before taking a breath and replacing his glasses. Speaking slowly, he looked at Paul. "So, professor, what you're telling me is that the United States is in possession of an ancient alien device capable of sending people across the stars to other planets?"

"That's correct, Mr. President, though I suspect that Roosevelt left you some notes about it."

"He did. His note under you and your project simply said 'Hold onto your pants, Harry, this one’s a doozy.' Well … looks like he was right." Pausing for several more seconds, he looked to his two advisors, and then to Paul.

"Well, first things first. The security implications. What the hell was that thing we saw in the film that shot those blasts at the camera?"

"Currently, we don't know with absolute certainty, but we suspect that that particular alien individual might be some kind of soldier or servant of Ra or another god." Paul said, and then silently kicked himself for having forgotten to mention their alien god theory.

"What?" All three men exclaimed before the president spoke again. "Doctor Langford, are you telling me not only are the ancient Egyptian gods real, but they’re hostile?!?"

"Not exactly, Mr. President. I apologize for forgetting to mention this, again, I only had a day to prepare, but in the Heliopolis site, we found two ancient texts, an older one that appears to be some form of Latin, and another, newer one that is strongly Egyptian. We've gotten a rough translation of some of the Egyptian text, and, according to it, the location was claimed by 'The Supreme Lord Ra.' We don't believe that Ra is an actual god, but perhaps an advanced alien who used technology to pose as one and subjugate the Egyptians thousands of years ago, or, equally possibly, that aliens who visited Earth long ago either transferred their religion to the ancient Egyptians or adopted the Egyptian beliefs as theirs. Given that there were multiple Egyptian gods and a recurrent theme of animal heads on human bodies, and well…" he trailed off, letting the sentence hang in the air.

"Doctor Langford, if these … gods … are real, then why do we still have this gate operational? It seems like a huge risk to have a gateway to Earth that… Ra or one of these other beings or religious fanatics could return from."

"Basically, Mr. President, we've been operating under Occam's Razor. Since we know we're dealing with a race of aliens who possess technology powerful enough to pose as gods, it stands to reason that they have means other than the Stargate for travel. Even if we stopped all activity and buried our gate like the Egyptians apparently did, for all we know, there might be an alien armada out there that they could send. I admit, if these aliens did rule Earth at one point, but we buried the gate, I'm not sure as to why they didn't return in said hypothetical ships, but, again, it stands to reason that they more likely would have the capability than not."

"That's a valid point, but that still leaves a massive doorway that an army can march through."

"We're actually working on some theories about that as well. The Stargates only allow travel in one direction, from origin gate to destination gate, and anything that enters the wrong end doesn't come out, so we're experimenting with putting some kind of barrier in front of the gate. Some of our scientists theorize that an obstruction close enough to the gate won't allow matter to emerge, or will allow it to emerge, but bounce it back into the one-way connection of the gate, where it is apparently destroyed. Plus, while the gate is large, it does present a limitation on what can be sent through, and how much can be sent through at a time. For example, we could fit a Sherman fairly comfortably through the gate, but larger war equipment would be difficult. While we don't know how small the alien's technology and weapons are, it stands to reason that they, too, can't fit all their heavy toys through the gate. And people can only travel through in rows four or five people wide." Ernest said.

"Plus, Mr. President, with some good planning, you can turn this Stargate into a natural choke point with a highly effective kill zone. With good crossfire and explosives, it would be difficult to breach through, assuming out weapons can hurt these things." General Marshall said, speaking up.

Secretary Stimson looked down for another second at the documents in the briefcase before speaking up. "The potential technological gain alone … Mr. President, this is a rare opportunity for the United States, unique would probably be a better word in fact. While the alien technology is unknown, if we can secure even a fraction of the potential of what could be offered, the possibilities are endless. We can ensure the safety of our nation, and, coupled with the device, we could potentially stand at a new global age of peace. There is risk, but the potential gain is enormous." he said, with Marshall nodding in agreement. "And another thing. There are apparently hostile aliens out there. We presumably do not stand a chance against them at this point. The logical thing to do is attempt to rectify that situation while trying to minimize the risk of stepping on the wrong toes."

Looking to his two advisers, Truman nodded. "Okay… if you two think it’s worth it, then we'll go for it. I'll need you two to coordinate with Dr. Langford to get him what he needs. For now let’s keep this between the three of us, though I suspect more people will need to be brought up to speed, especially your fellow Chiefs of Staff." Turning to Paul, he continued, "Well, it's been a long time since I was in the National Guard, so I tend to defer to those two for advice on these matters. We'll continue to support your program, Professor Langford. We'll have to finagle the budget a bit, but we can take a hit or two there. Roosevelt gave you several million to work with and run the project out of the warehouse. I'm giving you one hundred million to make an effective base and work this out."

Paul sucked in a lungful of air at the thought of so much money. He didn't know what to say.

"However, there are a few of caveats to this, Professor. First, keeping such a dangerous device in a warehouse won't work. As I said, I want you to build a base out of this. General Marshall can coordinate with you on the details, but I want this thing in a secure location a good distance away from where civilians might get hurt or accidentally stumble upon it.

"We're building some testing facilities in the Southwest; I'm sure we can build one more … test site, and not be noticed. If you can have your people draw up some plans for how to house this thing, I can get the engineers to start working on this, though it may take some time." the general said.

"Which brings me to my second caveat. Until we have a secure location for the gate, I want a moratorium on all travel to unknown locations from Earth until the base is complete. It's just too risky to use Earth as a travel hub until we have everything secure. Use Heliopolis as an exploration springboard, but do so carefully."

Paul simply nodded in agreement; he still sometimes felt shivers when he thought of the probe that had been destroyed by the alien. "We will be limited in our options for several years, Mr. President, but I can agree to that, especially with that kind of a budget."

"I've been thinking," Stimson said, "if we're going to need a dedicated military force to protect our assets on Earth and on other planets we might use, we might as well dedicate a full division to the effort. Obviously, since this will be a slow build-up, it does not need to happen all at once, but, since we're already using parts of the 13th airborne for Stargate defense, we might as well dedicate the entire division to it. We can slowly weed out the members who would not be suited for the task and bring in other soldiers whom we might find useful.

"That's a good idea, Mr. Secretary." Marshall said, nodding in agreement. "I know a lot of the boys in the 13th have been annoyed at being grounded, so this will give the unit purpose, and it'll keep it from being put on Congress's chopping block." he finished under his breath.

All nodding in agreement, the president pulled up a paper. "Well, we'll need a designation for this project. While calling it something like the Stargate Initiative might be accurate, I'd prefer not to give any hints at what this might be. So, for our budget, this will be placed under the category of a facility called Area 52. At least, until we figure out how to hide it better."

After several more minutes of discussion, the four men finalized details for America's newest officially classified program. Satisfied, they exchanged handshakes, and Paul prepared to leave as the man in charge of a multimillion-dollar program. As he stood to leave, Truman spoke up “We’ll probably have to reassess the budget for your program in a year or two, but be prepared to operate on this amount for a while, the war is starting to wind down, Germany is on the ropes, and Japan…Well that might be a bit longer, but it’s an inevitable result. Anyways, we can get away with the budget for a bit, but eventually Congress is going to have to be brought up to speed, even if it’s just a few oversight members. I’d prefer you to have everything ready before our fellow representatives start arguing over how to use the thing and how much should be given to it. Good luck Professor.”

General Marshall approached him. "Dr. Langford, who was the soldier you said was in charge of the men at Heliopolis?" he asked.

"2nd Lieutenant Don Hammond, general." Paul replied.

"Well, given that the location is cut off for a while, and the 13th will be restructured, senior officers will be at a premium. So, when you next talk to the Lieutenant, could you inform him that'm officially bumping him up a pay grade to First Lieutenant? Tell him to keep up the good work, and that I'll send through the appropriate insignia when I get a chance."

Smiling, Paul nodded and shook General Marshall's hand. Things were looking up for the program.

……………….

As soon as Paul left, the three men looked at each other for several seconds before Marshall broke the silence.

“…Well, that went way differently than I thought it would. Truth be told, I thought this was just going to be some archaeological boondoggle…shows what I know.”

“Indeed” Stimson replied, pulling up a chair. “I am of course worried about those beings that video showed, but again, the sheer possibilities are endless.”

“Agreed, however gentlemen, we have a bigger question…are we going to let our friends in on this?”

“Mr. President?” Marshall asked.

“Britain, France, you know, our allies. This is obviously a monumental discovery and has the potential to shape the world in an incalculable amount of ways, the thing is, this project needs to stay secret, lord knows how people would react if they found out spacemen could be on our doorstep tomorrow. However, trying to keep it solely in our hands and hoarding whatever we might find strikes me as a recipe for disaster. If we get found out, best case we alienate ourselves from the entire world, worst case … war.”

“Well, we could always bring the French, British and Soviets in on it, they could provide additional assistance and funding.” Marshall replied.

“Yeah, but Churchill will go frothing out the mouth if we try and bring Stalin in on the program, Stalin…well who knows what that man will want or do.” Stimson rebutted.

“Hm…perhaps we might want to wait and see for a while.”

“Mr. President?” both other men asked.

“We obviously can’t keep our allies in the dark about this, they will know about it eventually. But for now, with the war and our immediate efforts to stabilize what’s left of Asia and Europe, it might be best to hold off on telling them anything. Plus it gives the Professor more time to finish up a base to house the thing. Plus this gives the man a chance to actually prove his program…”

Moscow- two weeks later

Agent Pavel Borodin pored over the files in front of him. In the dim light of the NKGB headquarters' poor lighting, he struggled to make sense of the information. While most of the state's efforts were going towards destroying Hitler's foul empire, they still had assets and other sources of information in other nations. Pavel was one of several agents in charge of figuring out what was happening in America. His specialty was trying to divine the capitalists' intentions by going over their receipts and other government reports and appropriations that found their way into Pavel's hands.

Glancing at this latest missive, it would appear that a new program was being initiated and was given a surprisingly large sum of money. This wasn't the first one he'd seen, or even the largest (that belonged to the nearly two billion dollar project he was having similarly poor luck with), but the fact that it was tied to only one location raised an eyebrow.

"Gah!" he exclaimed after several more frustrating minutes. His office partner, Boris, glanced over.

"Trouble, Pavel?" he asked in a singsong voice. "Still trying to figure out what the Americans are up to with their money?"

"What do you think, Boris?!" he snapped as he sighed and took a long drink of coffee. Boris had it easier; all he had to do was listen to their media and try to guess what was happening by what the mouthpieces of the bourgeois were saying.

"Don't fret, my friend. We'll figure it out. Besides," he said, gesturing to the two documents on Pavel's desk, "We still have to figure out what they've been spending that two billion on before we fret about one hundred million…"


	7. Chapter 7, Part 1: The way home?

Chapter 7, Part One

June 2nd, 1945

"Goddamn, that's one hell of a storm brewing." Simmons said to Don, watching out the gateroom window as the thunderclouds on the horizon moved steadily toward them, the sea below growing rougher. Already they could see lightning strikes slamming into the ocean, and estimates put the arrival of its outer edge at their location at less than an hour. The teams had been pulling everything deeper into the castle, into the section buried inside the cliff since they'd noticed the storm. It was the first serious storm they'd encountered on Heliopolis; they'd expected a lot more, with the constant overcast of cloud cover, but, much to their surprise, there'd been nothing more than the occasional thunderstorm.

Don nodded. "Look like hurricane-force with lightning. Hey, go check in with the weather guys outside, see if they've got anything new on their readings."

Simmons nodded, then headed off. Ernest came up a few moments later as Don leaned on the sill, thinking about his life growing up on the coast and dealing with hurricanes. "I wonder if we're entering storm season." he mused, glancing over at the scientist.

"I can tell you now, Ernest, this is going to be a bad one. I can feel it." he said. "Honestly, I don't want anybody in any part of the castle that's exposed to the storm. It's a good thing we've got enough space in the underground portions for everyone. It'll probably be for a day or so, presuming that the weather is anything like on Earth. If not, well, it could be longer or shorter."

Ernest nodded. "We're in for a doozy, that's for sure. As far as storm season, who knows? I'm not a climatologist."

A few hours later, with rain and wind and thunder coming down around the castle, Don and Ernest were in the afternoon, making a final report in to Earth to let them know they were going into an effective lockdown until the storm passed.

"Copy that, Lieutenant. Check in when you're through the worst of it."

Don was about to sign off when heard Ernest gasp. Turning back to see what it was, his jaw dropped. Some kind of energy wave was rising up from somewhere under the water, slowly enveloping the castle. He turned to Ernest, who was equally spellbound by the sight of whatever it was.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked.

Ernest glanced at him. "Some kind of force field, I'd guess. Look down at the water." He pointed, and when Hammond glanced at it, he noticed that the waves were smashing against the wall of energy but not penetrating.

"Protective measure?" he asked.

Ernest nodded. "Likely intended to guard Heliopolis from attack or severe disaster."

A voice crackled over the radio. "Lieutenant, do you copy?"

Don hit the transmit button. "Sorry about that, Base. We just had a force field activate around the structure, seemingly in response to the storm."

A pause. "Say again, Lieutenant? Not sure we heard you right."

"A force field. Some kind of energy barrier appears to have formed around the castle, out to about a hundred yards from the cliff."

Paul's voice crackled through a moment later. "You're shitting me."

"No, Professor, we aren't. Hell, I'll have a camera come up here, get some footage of it, then broadcast it back to you."

"... You should probably do that, Don. We're going to want to get this to the scientists. If Heliopolis has an energy shield, we're going to want to figure out how to make our own. If we can do that, we may be able to better withstand possible attacks."

A few hours later, with a team recording the footage of the energy barrier, a fair number of the expedition had come up to take a look and run some tests. Ernest watched as a few soldiers fired some rounds at the barrier, the camera crew catching the pulses on the field that emanated from the impact sites. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning lanced out from the clouds and struck the shield, resulting in a massive fluctuation over what Ernest estimated to be roughly a tenth of the total area, compared to the maybe one percent that the bullet impacts caused. A second strike followed moments later, and Ernest flinched as the shield visibly flickered, almost fading out entirely. "My God." he said. A third strike about thirty seconds later finished the job, this one a massive bolt that continued even after the shield collapsed. However, most shockingly, it didn't actually strike the castle, instead spider-webbing out over the area where the shield had been.

"Holy shit!" several of the soldiers screamed. Ernest, however, just marveled at it. "Incredible. The force field must have left an ionized path that redirected the lightning." However, his fascination was dulled a moment later as the torrents of wind and rain came through into the castle. "Oh, shit." he said, realizing that, fascinating as it had been, they'd just lost their protection. However, his fears were quickly mitigated as the shield reappeared a few moments later.

"Temporary overload, or a shutdown to prevent damage to whatever emits the field." he mused.

Meanwhile, Don and several of the scientists had gone back down into the castle's underbelly, looking for whatever had activated to control the shield. They'd started in the control room, and found a previously inactive console alive with energy, displaying a three-dimensional scale image of the shield in the air. He'd called one of the linguists down to help figure out what it was saying. Different sections of the image periodically flashed, presumably in time with impacts on the shield, as various readout graphs spiked up and down. An area of the shield blinked from blue to orange to red rapidly before a large message flashed over the diagram and the shield's image vanished entirely, leaving the castle unprotected. Don was glad he'd grabbed one of the cameras to record it, because they'd have to go over it later and attempt to translate the readouts

"What the fuck?" he asked. However, a few moments later, the shield reappeared, fully blue this time.

"Don, this is Ernest. Have you found the shield's controls yet?"

"Copy that, Ernest. We found it. Some kind of three-dimensional projection display. It looked like it malfunctioned a moment ago."

"The shield failed for a minute. Three lightning strikes in rapid succession."

"Shit. So it's not impenetrable."

"Anything can be overwhelmed with enough power. We're lucky that the shield didn't suffer permanent failure."

Two days later, the storm had fully abated, passing them. The shield had failed periodically as the storm's intensity grew and then waned, but never for more than three or four minutes at the height of the onslaught. They'd transmitted the footage back to Earth for inclusion on the next cut of the briefing video, particularly the readouts on the console and the aftermath of the failures. Each time, the subsequent strikes had spiderwebbed against the ionized pathways left in the shield's wake. Ernest knew, this was one of the most important discoveries about Heliopolis. They now had proof that it was possible to create force fields capable of resisting heavy yields. He'd postulated that the shield had been stronger when it was new, but periodic wear and tear from its automatic activations to protect the castle had gradually weakened it. If only they could repair it, find the emitters and the power source, study it without risking breaking it completely. This discovery was massive, and being able to capitalize on it would be crucial to Earth's well-being.

July 7th, 1945

As the excavator took the first large shovelful of and dirt from the ground, Paul Langford marveled at how much had changed in such a short amount of time. The war in Europe had ended several weeks ago, and Japan was in its death knell. While he was happy that the horrific war was nearing its end, Paul was also pleased at the numerous resources that were becoming available to him and his program, and various military deployments to Europe were being cancelled, or shifted around to focus on Japan. While the logistics train of the United States was a marvel, it was still imperfect, and the occasional shipment of supplies or soldiers had "gone missing" when they were appropriated for the Program. In addition, Truman had discussed his plan to bring the British onboard with the program as well, he planned on letting them know during the conference he was going to in newly defeated Germany later in the month. Paul was surprised how quickly another nation was being brought on board, but agreed with Truman's logic, this gate was a matter of importance for the entire globe and while it was prudent to see as much advancement go to America as possible, not informing other nations about it, and its potential hazards, would be horribly irresponsible, and the British had proven to be a stalwart ally during the war and a good friend to America, despite what Kennedy kept trying to stir up. Having them would be a boon also, given that many of the academics in England specialized in Egyptology and would be great assistance in figuring out more about Ra's people, to say nothing of the military aid that would be brought over as well. Returning his gaze downward, he looked at the papers spread across the hood of the jeep.

Dr. Langford was actually quite proud of the plans for the new facility as he and the engineers poured over the finalized blueprints for the base, which was to be located in a patch of Nevada desert . Originally they were thinking somewhere in Colorado, potentially near the airbase near Colorado Springs, but the area had already been claimed by Fort Carson and not wanting to disclose too much information they would have to do to wrestle the area away, it was decided to move further west. They had settled for a large patch of undeveloped land a few dozen miles north of Las Vegas, and fortuitously, there was still a rather large construction presence in the area owing to build up around Las Vegas, as well as the remnants from the Boulder Dam construction a while back. In addition, the nearby Las Vegas Army Airfield provided a potentially secure area off site that could come to assist in the event the main compound was compromised in any way. In addition, various areas around the base site were earmarked for military use and development as well, so most likely their humble abode would be sharing space with other locations that could serve as secondary lines of defense, as well as masks to help shield the base's true purpose.

Ernest and the others at Heliopolis, including newly promoted 1st Lieutenant Hammond, had helped as much as they could, drawing up basic plans and using the video link to show Earth. The final result for the gate room was quite impressive. Their main priority was twofold; first it was to make a base that could easily serve as a defensive stronghold in case of incursion from the Stargate, while also still being large enough to allow it to serve as a transit terminal for future exploration and possible expansion out of the Stargate. Ernest and his people had delivered on a strong initial concept for the base: the hallways of the facility were large enough to drive tanks through with ease, but with all pathways leading to the Stargate following a downwards sloping fashion. According to Hammond, this would allow defenders to continually hold the high ground from any incursion, which would have to climb up small inclines to gain access to the rest of the base The main facilities of the base were also located underground, these would consist of barracks, several recreational areas, including a gym, swimming pool, and library, a mess hall, the gate room, plenty of storage areas, all other necessary facilities, and armories that looked like they were supposed to supply a front-line position over in Europe.

The layout of the facility would be fairly simple. A total of four levels were planned, with the gate room located on the lowest one. The room was in essence, a long empty corridor with the Stargate located at the very end. Reminding Langford of the dirigible hangers back east, this cavernous room would protrude from the base so that no facilities would be built above it (for the most part). At the other end of the chamber, in the small area that was to be built below the main base, were to be a series of lifts and elevators, in addition to the ramps that lead to the next level. It was planned that in the event of an off world team needing assistance; the vehicles in the bay above could be rapidly lowered into the gate room in conjunction with vehicles coming down the ramp. This was applied to the base in general, thinking long-term, the corridors were big enough to drive tanks through, complete with ramps to allow them to drive between the levels, and there were plans for a vehicle housing area to be attached to the gate room in the future. The gate room itself was, to put it bluntly, a kill-box. It was roughly a hundred and fifty feet long, and just wide enough for the gate to fit.

There was a second story, accessible only from outside the gate room, that ran along the edge of the room, a U-shaped ledge on top of which would be mounted several machine guns, with enough cover to allow several dozen troops with rifles to hide as well, Running behind the long walls of the gate room, evidenced only by the tall, narrow slits, all angled toward the gate and staggered so that you'd have to really try to hit someone in the corridor on the other side of the gate room, through which machine gun and rifle barrels would protrude, were defensive corridors, designed to provide as much cover as possible to those in them. Near the end of the room where the exit was, two additional machine guns would be planted. There were several indentations in the floor where shaped-charge anti-tank explosives would be placed. In a stroke of barbaric genius, the suggestion had been made by a clearly sadistic corporal to rig up a flamethrower at the base of the ramp, serviceable by a crawlspace underneath. Or put it to one side of the gate. Either way, "Roast the alien bastards before they can even look around," had been the corporal's words. They were still considering that possibility. Finally, a swing-down barrier raised by electric winch would be installed. The winch would be housed in the ceiling, completely concealed by the barrier when the barrier was not in active position, to keep it safe from damage. The doors at the gate room's exit could be blocked by thick plates that would roll across them on motors and wheel tracks. Overall, if an alien decided to send his troops through and Earth's weapons could affect them, the only thing he'd be doing was sending them into a meat grinder.

They also had the last ditch failsafe as well. The plan was to line four fifths of the chamber's roof and upper walls with explosives which could be detonated in the event control of the base was lost. In that case, the ceiling above the gate would cave in, filling the entire room with sand and dirt, burying the gate and hopefully preventing its use. In addition, a number of shaped explosive charges would be placed on the outer ring of the gate, at the top on the front, and on the bottom on the back, designed to go off before the charges that would collapse the gateroom to attempt to land the gate on its back and use gravity as a weapon so that anything coming out fell back in.

The third level was the nerve center of the base. A control room was located near the gate, so that it had a small view above the sole entrance to the gate room. Inside would be charts, maps, radios, and there were even talks of a computer. This room would serve as the coordination center of the base, as well as off world operations. In addition, the main armory was on this level, while there were several other smaller ones that would be located near the barracks, this one would be the main repository of the bases countless munitions and arms, as well as the heavier weapons that couldn't be stored in the level two armories. In addition, a rather sizable medical wing was also to be located on this level, complete with an operational and surgical suite, an x-ray machine, as well as several quarantine chambers and even a large decompression chamber, in addition to a smaller mobile one. A small secure conference room would also be built adjacent to the command center. Finally a small wing of holding cells were also planned for the base, in the event they needed to capture or contain an alien.

Level Two was the largest area, here is where the barracks and the internal vehicle hanger bay were to be located, as well as many of the crew facilities. The vehicle bay was by far the largest room of the base, easily twice the size of the gate room. Capable of housing dozens of tanks and other vehicles, in addition to maintaining and refuelling them, this room also had a large lift that could connect directly to the gate room to lower a small number of vehicles directly into the room, in the event of rapid deployment. Finally, vehicle weapons and ammunition were located in a secure armory built off to the side of the bay, on the opposite end of the fuel storage location. The barracks were a series of multiple housing wings that had central communal meeting and recreational halls, in addition to housing several gym facilities. There was also a small movie there and library located on this level as well. In addition, several hydroponic gardens were planned as well, both to provide fresh food for the soldiers, and to provide a solid stream of food in the event the base got cut off from outside support for some reason.

Level One was primarily for intake. A briefing room was located here to allow new arrivals to become familiar with the facility, and much of the bases non-essential storage would be located here as well. There were also several small security stations guarding the only entrance into the base as well, a giant, three meter solid steel gate which used a series of hydraulic pumps to open and close. On the surface, all that could really be seen of the base area was a small hill with a giant metal door built into it. If it weren't for the small road leading to the base or the acres of barbed chain-link fence surrounding the facility, it would be fairly inconspicuous all in all, yet would be the home to thousands of soldiers and personnel.

July 20th, 1945

As Truman signaled the technician to come in and remove the projector, he looked over at Prime Minister Winston Churchill as he took a long slip of brandy from his tumbler. As he uncorked the decanter and poured himself another drink, he finally looked up at Truman and spoke.

"So, just to reiterate, you found an ancient alien device that can send you to different worlds, you have a base in an ancient alien castle, and on one of the three places you can connect to, you found a group of aliens that can shoot heat rays at you?"

"Well, we don't think they're heat rays, but yes that's the gist of it."

"Well, I can certainly say that Britain and her people appreciate you telling us this, obviously this is quite the discovery."

"Indeed, though right now we're obviously planning on keeping this classified for a long while, there are just too many unknowns about it currently, and bringing it forward to the world right now, or even at some point in the immediate or near future, could cause enormous problems."

"Oh, agreed, rest assured we'll stay mum on this."

"Excellent. Also, any British involvement will, of course, remain contingent on the United Kingdom's continued silence pertaining to this device. Which brings me to my next point; we're slowly building a combat force capable of responding to any threats that might emerge from this Stargate. We're presently working on converting the 13th Airborne for this task but it will take some time. If you and your people can contribute any forces, it would be greatly appreciated."

"Indeed, I can promise you that if I win in a couple days, you'll have that support, but…well, Attlee and Labour have been running strong and they might be taking the reins from this old warhorse. I'll see what I can do in the event that happens, but be ready to give this briefing all over again if they do win. In general though, I think regardless of whichever man wins, you can count on Great Britain's assistance, though we might be tied up for a while. A lot of our colonial holdings are in a tad bit of a spot, the natives are getting uppity in a lot of places, India especially." Taking another sip of brandy, he muttered to himself , "I kept telling everyone that we should have hung that Gandhi bastard when we the chance."

"Anyways, I'm glad to have your assistance Mr. Prime Minister, regardless of which way the political situation goes."

"Indeed, and who knows, perhaps one day the British flag will fly proudly over an alien world, who knows, perhaps there are some aliens out there in need of civilizing."

August 1st, 1945

As Truman signaled the technician to come in and remove the projector, he looked over at Prime Minister Clement Attlee, who was taking a long sip of a cut of tea. As he slowly steeped another cup, he looked up at Truman and spoke.

"Well…Churchill was certainly right, this is quite significant." he said as he set his utensils down.

"I take it, then, that he filled you in on a lot of the details?"

"He did, though he mentioned that I should still see the footage you had…Well, I can safely say that yes, the United Kingdom will provide whatever assistance it can to your efforts Mr. President."

Truman sighed with relief; he'd been worried that the new British government might not be as amiable to supporting the Stargate. As he began to settle in, though, Attlee spoke up.

"So when are you planning on informing the Soviets about this?" he asked innocently as he sipped on his tea.

Sitting up straight, Truman looked into Attlee's eyes "Never … or at least not for any immediate frame of time. We're not going to risk Stalin getting his hands on any alien technology."

"Oh come now, Mr. President, Stalin and his people are our allies, may I remind you they took the brunt of Hitler's forces and are partners at this conference. Considering this is a matter of global security, it would be prudent to inform them."

"If it was any other power, I'd agree with you, but this is Stalin, I don't trust that man any further than I can throw him."

Frowning, Attlee set his tea down before continuing "Ah yes, Churchill kept warning us about the Soviets. Did you know that nutter wanted to rearm the Germans and send them right back at the Soviets while we helped them invade? Preposterous! I concede Stalin may be a strong arm tactics user, and there certainly have been unsavory reports of his opponents…"disappearing," but he's not some power mad megalomaniac who's bent on world domination. Considering the Soviets have one of the largest militaries and manufacturing bases left intact from this whole horrific war, it would be absurd to not include them."

"That may be Mr. Prime Minister, but myself, and my government feel quite differently on this. For the time being we don't want any Soviet involvement; while that could change later on, our present concerns with Stalin and his forces have left us quite adamant on this. And as I'm sure Churchill told you, British involvement would be contingent on your government being able to keep this a secret as well."

Attlee frowned at the not so veiled threat, but he still sat tall. Speaking quietly, with a small edge to his voice, he continued, "We can keep this a secret, Mr. President. I may not agree with you, but we will, if only to gain access to these technologies. But know this, when it comes to safety of our planet, and its inhabitants, we cannot be picky about our allies. I'd have thought this war would have hammered that point home…Mr. President."

Pulling out a briefcase, Attlee pulled out several pieces of paper and began to write several things down. "We're a bit spread thin for the moment, but I think we can manage to pull up a few squads and some equipment for your program. Churchill already gave us the specifics about it; they need to be comfortable with the prospect of potentially never returning home and such. We'll also start scouting some of our academies and other programs to find qualified scientists and others who may be of some assistance as well."

Finishing his notes, he looked back to Truman and extended his hand "His Majesty's Government looks forward to working with the United States on this endeavor."

Smiling Truman took his hand and shook it. The program had just gotten a boost that he was sure Dr. Langford would be pleased about.

Meanwhile in another hotel room in Potsdam, Pavel and Boris looked at the scattered papers around them.

"Have you found anything yet, Boris?" Pavel asked, as he discarded another stack of papers

"Nothing yet, comrade, the British and Americans have been fairly through, they've even found our bugs so we've got nothing from the American president's meeting with the British."

Pavel swore, the same thing happened when they tried to bug his meeting with Churchill. They'd been pouring over communiques and other documents they'd manage to steal and or copy, but so far had no luck in uncovering anything vital.

After another hour of searching, Pavel say backwards on his bed and huffed. They'd been at this for three days, trying to find any kind of information that could prove useful, but so far no luck. Just as he started to close his eyes, Boris gave a shout of joy.

"What is it?" Pavel yelped as he snapped his eyes open.

"You remember that program the American started a little bit ago, that 100 million dollar one that bugged you? Well I found its facility's name. Area 52!"

"Excellent, what is its function?" he said as he stood up.

"Eh…well that's the thing, it doesn't list its function, only the name and a very large classified stamp."

"Well fuck, that doesn't really give us too much, does it Boris?" he snapped.

"Hey now, at least we know the name of that thing. Maybe once we finally have some time we can investigate." Clapping his hands he continued, "Now come on, we have to keep looking for anything that has mention of Manhattan or Trinity."

Rubbing his eyes, Pavel say back down and continued to look through the papers.

December 9th, 1945

Catherine smiled as she opened the door for Samuel. " So, dear, how was your day?" She asked brightly.

Samuel shrugged. "They still haven't told me anything more than you or I already know, what we've already found out. They figured out something about the ring, something big. Ernest was sent off to dig around elsewhere for information, and nobody's heard from him, or if they have, they don't feel I need to know. The projects they've sent me gallivanting around to look at are mostly weapons, so maybe the ring is some kind of delivery system, something fast and effective."

Catherine nodded. She'd given up all but the tiniest sliver of hope that they'd ever get to the bottom of it, and had already begun to fancy the idea that Ernest had deserted her, deserted the project, and ran off with another woman. She'd admit, that thought made the fact that she'd begun sleeping with Samuel more bearable. She'd been desperate, had to lure him in more, make him believe she loved him, wanted him. She suspected that her father had an idea of what was going on, given his disapproving glances, but he never said anything. And Catherine had to admit to herself that she was starting to believe the lie, that she did love Samuel. The man was strong, powerful, charming, and always willing to comfort her and be there when he could.

She'd voiced her beliefs about Ernest to Samuel and her father before. Samuel had acknowledged the possibility, and her father had looked away guiltily, said that he didn't know if they'd ever see Ernest again. That had been the moment she resigned herself to building a future without Ernest, had opened her heart to letting herself fall in love with Samuel.

She sighed. "I need to tell you something, Samuel." She said slowly. "I've been to the doctor recently. I missed my ..." She faltered, then summoned her strength. There was no going back from here if she said it. "I missed my monthly. They did the test, and ... I'm pregnant."

Samuel took a step back, eyes wide, slack-jawed. "Oh, hell." He said softly, shaking his head. "How the fuck are we going to tell your father? And we'll have to get married, quickly. And then there's the issue of what to tell Ernest, if he ever comes back."

"So, you still want to be with me?"

"Of course. I love you, Catherine. Nothing can change that. I've come to love you, just as you've come to love me. We both had our reasons for starting this at first, but the pretending stopped a long time ago. You wanted to use me to find out the truth about Ernest, and I wanted to use you to get further in on this project, to ingratiate myself into it because of its importance. The power this project can give needs to be in the right hands. We wore the masks, and we've become them. I don't see why we can't truly be a family."

Predictably, Paul didn't take the news well. He'd been willing to turn a blind eye to his daughter's shenanigans because they kept her off his back, but, realizing that she'd truly put Ernest behind her, he couldn't help but be angry. Catherine, getting back to her, was all that had kept Ernest going. But, at the same time, Samuel was good for Catherine. Paul hadn't seen her that happy since before they'd opened the gate. If she wanted, needed Samuel, he'd let her have him and give their rushed wedding his blessing.

Ernest would be crushed, so Paul had lied yet again, told the young man that Catherine still missed him, that she was waiting for him. He knew he'd pay for it when they got him home, but it was worth it if it would give Earth an edge sooner. As long as Ernest was focused wholly on deciphering the mysteries of Heliopolis, Earth would reap those rewards just a little bit sooner, and every day could be important. They were on a timer, but they couldn't see the countdown. They had to play fast, they had to be ready at any time and pray they were well-enough prepared.

May 4th, 1946

Ernest was staring at the currently-active light emitter. Well, more accurately, he was staring at the atomic structures it emitted. There had to be some kind of rhyme and reason to it all. He paced around the room, glancing up and down. He'd been here over a year by Earth reckoning, and they still had so much work they needed to do. Several more groups had come through, boosting Heliopolis's population to just over one hundred. Four squads of soldiers now lived here, including the British squad that had come through with several specialists from the United Kingdom. All guarded the civilians. Hammond organized daily exercise regimens for the soldiers which usually consisted of them running up and down the spiral staircase several times a day, with occasional jaunts outside on clear days. They'd also rigged a mechanical pulley system to create moving targets at the gate room's improvised shooting range so they could try and maintain their shooting training. Most of the civilians had also become proficient with some form of firearm, usually one of the pistols. The location had settled into something of a routine as well. In addition to recently-authorized scouting missions out to five kilometers in all accessible directions on land, when people weren't working on their assigned tasks, they were usually clearing out rubble. That was one strange thing they had discovered about the castle, it was a sturdy building, apparently more than capable of taking severe punishment, but something had clearly happened a long time ago that damaged it relatively severely. Anything like this on Earth would have probably crumbled or been just about ready to fall apart, but here, the superstructure, they had discovered, was reinforced with strange steel-like metal that they had so far failed to acquire a sample of. Nothing seemed to affect the metal, and when they tried to take a small chunk off with a cutting torch, the metal rapidly cooled to the touch. They'd spent half a year now trying to figure out how to get a piece of the metal for a sample. In the meantime, they'd been slowly going through the castle and removing rubble, starting from the lower levels and working up; using mostly their hands and a few hand baskets, they'd managed to clear out roughly ninety percent of the castle, only few upper rooms still had rubble left in them. Soon Heliopolis would be back up to 100%. Much to Ernest's frustration, they'd yet to find whatever controlled the force field that had activated

Looking back to the lights, Ernest continued to struggle with them. They were missing something, something that could help them decipher it in the long run. He couldn't figure out, though, why the vertical height of the projected atoms varied so much. If this was just a fancy book, why were the lines so crooked and the spaces between the atoms so inconsistent? Unlike the other writing in Heliopolis, this one had been maddeningly frustrating, even some of the writings on the wall in this chamber were getting deciphered; Dr. Norwich was making headway on the set of runes which, according to him, were very similar to a set of runes found in ancient Nordic settlements, which itself opened up the possibility of further alien involvement beyond merely Egyptian mythology meddlers. Looking back to the projector, though, it was like a book written by someone who didn't know how to keep the lines straight or evenly space the words out. There was no reason for such chaos in such a technological form, though. Unless…

"Of course!" he said quietly. "We've all been idiots! The height of and spacing between the atoms are part of the code's structure!"

Picking up a pencil he began to trace several of the lines and dots, mentally reciting several compounds and other base structures. To his delight, the lines matched up to several of the compounds in his mind. The language, the code, it was a basic building block for a language, it had to be; if this was indeed some kind of meeting place, they would need some kind of universal written way to communicate, and what could be more simple than the very unchanging elements of the universe itself. Just as he began to settle himself in to start taking notes, Dr. Stevens came rushing down the staircase, and nearly ran into Ernest.

"Oomph." he said as he caught himself just before colliding. "Ernest!" He half shouted excitedly, "We have something! Something huge!" He gestured for Ernest to follow him as he darted up the stairs.

Sighing, Ernest put his pencil and pad away, the console would still be there later, he supposed. As he ran and followed Robert, he strained to hear him over the small echo of the stairwell.

"…We were moving some rubble from one of the side rooms near the gate, that's been kind of low on our list, since we've mostly been building up near the gate room and clearing out the living rooms. But then we turned over some of the rubble and found something! We've been straightening it up and re aligning it and…" He stopped as they reached the small alcove, Robert doubling over and wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath "… there … were … coordinates!" he finished as Ernest entered the room.

There were dozens of pieces of rubble arranged against the wall, meticulously put back together so their images realigned in a reasonably readable fashion. The stone was at least twelve feet tall, and carved into it were dozens of stargate coordinates.

"We've counted at least 54 coordinate sets on this cartouche so far, while they're probably only a fraction of viable addresses, we theorize that since Ra and his people may have only lived here a short time, they only had time to mark down a comparatively small handful of possible planets, and most likely, these were the important or significant ones." Robert said standing up straight.

"That's good work." Ernest said admiring the cartouche, next to each address was a small inscription of hieroglyphs, most likely denoting the importance of that address. "Once we start exploring we'll have a list of potential worlds to visit an.." he said before Robert cut him off.

"That's not all, Ernest. Look at the coordinate set that's third from the bottom." Stevens said, handing Ernest a piece of paper. On it was another set of scribbled out translations from the doctor until he'd finally unscrambled it. It read "Those of the first world." Looking at the cartouche again, next to those hieroglyphs were also a large number of what appeared to be crudely drawn humans. Most of the other addresses had a simple star, or a star and column next to their address.

"Those of the first world, and it had a drawing of humans! Ernest, I think this is Earth's address!" he said, his voice rising. "We've found Earth! We aren't stranded anymore!"

"Hold on Robert, this could mean anything; it could be Ra's home world for all we know. We need to be careful and think this through." he said, his voice not betraying his excitement. If this was Earth, they could all go home. On the other hand, it could be something dangerous. If they were stupid and unlucky, it could be fatal. "Let's follow protocol; I'll dial this address and radio to see if it's home."

Catherine's eyes widened as she saw the ring, she remembered it all too well from when she accompanied her father on his trip to Egypt nearly twenty years ago and her more recent aborted role in the attempts Roosevelt had sanctioned. As she walked through the warehouse, she could hardly believe what her father had told her about its purpose. At first she'd thought he was just teasing her, humoring her as he tried to explain what had happened to Ernest. Those first few weeks after Ernest had left had been hard, when her father had said that he'd been sent out of the country on business related to the project and, for security reasons, was effectively incommunicado except for messages related to his work.

So she'd waited, time had passed by and nothing happened, Ernest was still gone and her father was still tight lipped. She'd continue to pester him about it, and she could see that he wanted to tell her, but couldn't. Then her attempts to use Lieutenant Marcus had begun, culminating in her falling in love, her swelling belly, and their quick, quiet marriage. So it'd come to her as a surprise when her father approached her and offered to explain everything to her and Samuel, especially after her definitive answer that she'd moved on. They had to go through a lot of hoops first, she had to submit multiple forms of identification to the government, go through several interrogations about her political views and views of other nations, had her entire background reviewed, her choices in friends and acquaintances examined, and then sign a mountain of paperwork that basically said opening her mouth about it would be a one-way ticket to a dark cell for the rest of her life, and that she understood those consequences perfectly well. But she'd done it, since it all meant she could finally find out what happened to Ernest. Even though she no longer loved him, she still cared deeply.

Her father explained most of it on the drive to the warehouse. She'd been shocked when he explained it, but she slowly had time to process what he said. A doorway to another world (She'd already drawn the conclusion, as had others, that it used some variant of an artificially-created Einstein-Rosen bridge), Ernest being trapped in an alien castle, and the strange being with the light staff, one thing was for sure, it'd take a bit of time to adjust to the new reality. As they entered the warehouse, he father was finishing up his speech.

"…And so in a little bit, we'll be dialing Heliopolis and sending a regular supply shipment. While we do that, you can radio Ernest. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you in person." he said. "But you should know, he doesn't know anything about you and Samuel; I didn't have the heart to tell him. So, you two will have to break the news to him."

Samuel groaned. "He's going to hate me."

As they entered the room, though, the gate seemed to already be on, a pool of blue light bathing the center of the ring. Various soldiers milling around to the side of the gate, their weapons to their sides.

"What the hell?" he father muttered, "I told them to wait on the shipment until we arrived." He began to walk towards the gate technician who was talking into his radio.

"It's all clear," she could hear him say as he father approached him. She wasn't paying attention though as she stood, entranced by the gate. Suddenly, a small whoosh sound emanated from the gate as a solo figure dashed through the blue light and onto the ramp. Her eyes widened…

"Ernest!" she shouted, as the figure caught sight of her and broke out into a mad sprint. She saw her father look up as Ernest dashed over to her and scooped her up in his arms and spun around a couple times.

"Catherine!" he said with a loud whisper and he rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes, a large grin on his face. Looking up to her father, he gestured to her with his head with a confused look on his face. Her father smiled and nodded his head.

"We figured it out, well, Robert figured it out! Earth's address, we have it, we can finally go back and forth … we can come home!"

Looking back at her, he moved in to kiss her, and she reluctantly pushed him away. "Ernest, there's something you need to know." She said, stepping back so he could get a good look at her swelling stomach. "I thought you'd abandoned me, that you'd run off with someone else. So I made myself move on. At first, it was because he might have been able to help me find out the truth about you, but after I gave up hope, it happened for real. I fell in love with him ... And out of love with you. And then, well, I got pregnant. And we got married."

The look on Ernest's face would haunt Catherine for months to come. The anger, shock, sadness, and betrayal were so prominent that she almost regretted having ever seduced Samuel. But only almost; her love for Samuel and their budding family prevailed.

He whirled to face Paul. " Why didn't you tell me?!" He demanded.

"What good would it have done, Ernest? You wouldn't have been able to focus on the work at hand. We need everything Heliopolis has to offer, and you being off your game would have been disastrous. Every day counts. Someday, the threat is going to be on our doorstep, and we need to be ready. I chose not to tell you because I didn't want to distract you. I knew I'd pay for my deceit, and I made the decision to do it anyway. I had to look at the big picture, and I know you can do it too."

Ernest sighed. "I waited, Paul! For over a year, the only thing that's kept me sane has been knowing I could come back someday and marry the woman I loved! And now, now I find out that she didn't even love me enough to wait!"

"You abandoned me, Ernest!" Catherine screamed. "You left me here so you could go gallivanting off to God-knows-where with no idea if you'd even live to return! I don't care that you didn't run off with some goddamned whore! You still left me! You placed this damned project over your love for me, over our future together! I had a right to move on after that, so don't you dare! Don't you dare think you're in the right to be angry at me! Could I have waited? Yes, I could have! But you sure didn't! You didn't even tell me you'd figured it out before going! You just left one day with no explanation! If you'd told me what you were planning, maybe I could have done it! I'd have been willing to wait if I knew there was a chance you'd be back! But I didn't; nobody told me anything, and by the time someone did, they couldn't even tell me the truth because the government locked me out! This project was as much my brainchild as it was yours and Father's! And they cut me out because I wasn't technically a member! I was cheated out of the chance to stay involved until now, and we were cheated out of our chance to have a life together because you fucked up!"

Ernest and Paul stared at Catherine as she finished her outburst. Samuel, though, simply smiled. Catherine was definitely the woman he wanted by his side in what was to come, the plan he had begun to form even as he'd been told the true purpose of the stone ring Catherine had grown up with her whole life. She would be his queen, his goddess, his consort and closest aide, ruling by his side with the same iron will and determination as he had. Together, they would remake the future of Earth. The reins of the world would be in their hands, guiding the steeds of destiny to a better world. Their world.

Later that day, after Ernest and Catherine had been calmed down, urged not to make any more of a scene, the group gathered. Samuel had managed to emphasize the possibility of Langford and Catherine being able to see the castle, and Ernest being able to show them around, which had apparently tripped the inner archaeologists in all three of the people having the argument. Samuel himself had fought the urge to get involved; he needed to remain calm. Ernest would get his dues later, when the time came. The plans Samuel had … he would have to do some very illegal things to pull them off. But he would. He had to. The plan. The plan was the most important thing. It had to be brought to fruition. And it would. One day. It would take years, but it would happen. The world would be free of pain, of oppression, of threats of destruction. He would be the man who made it happen. And Catherine would help him. He'd seen the strength in her from the beginning, from the moment he'd seen her for the first time. She could do it. She would do it. He knew he could make her understand, turn her to his ways of thinking.

The gate finished dialing, the private on radio duty informed Heliopolis of inbound travelers, and the quartet exchanged glances before stepping through.


	8. Chapter 7, Part 2: A Grand Tour

Chapter 7, Part Two

May 4th, 1946 (Heliopolis Date E.A. (Ernest's Arrival) +385 days (Approximately 1 Heliopolis year))

Paul stared at the chamber as they came through. And he wasn't the only one. Catherine and Samuel stared at the surroundings with just as much awe and wonder as he did. Ernest, though, simply smiled. "You get used to it after a while. Mostly. It's still incredible, but nothing truly surprises me about it anymore. I've gotten used to being surprised by what's here."

"Well, Ernest, why don't you give us the grand tour?" Paul asked.

Ernest's eyes lit up at that suggestion. He moved forward, smiling. "Well, obviously, this is the gate room, with attached firing range. Now, follow me, and I'll show you the rest of the wonders of this place. Except the shield control room; we haven't been able to find that. All we've found is the display console; it appears to be some kind of auxiliary control for the shield, but with little functionality while the primary is still operational. In fact, from what we've translated so far, it looks like the entire control room is just the secondary. The primary control room has to be in a hidden chamber, somewhere in here, or else in a section we haven't cleared out yet. There's a section of the catacombs that we haven't managed to access; from what we can tell, a section of the ceiling caved in along most of the 're clearing it out now, but it's slow going; the pieces are pretty big."

Paul nodded. "Well, Ernest, this is your show. Pick a starting point, and let's go from there. I'm particularly interested in the 'elemental journal' you've found. You said you've just figured out that they're arranged as molecular compounds."

"Yeah, just before we found the cartouche room. I've identified several compounds so far. Water, various hydrocarbons and other organic compounds, and several that I've never seen before, mostly using the various unidentified atoms we've catalogued. One hundred and forty-six elements, with probably several million molecular combinations, known and unknown. If we could figure out how to acquire these various other elements and compounds, there's literally no telling what the results could be. Unless we find some sort of scientific knowledge database, something we can decrypt more easily, we'll have to explore, have to figure this out on our own."

On that note, the group walked through the castle and into the pedestal room. Ernest walked up to the pedestal and activated it with a touch. Paul, Catherine, and Samuel gasped in unison as the device turned on, light filling the room as the myriad particles sprang into existence.

"Incredible. It's even more awe-inspiring in person." Paul murmured, and Ernest nodded in agreement.

"It doesn't get old." he said. "I just can't believe it took me this long to figure out that it uses a molecular encryption. It was all right there in front of us."

"Ernest, you're an engineer and Egyptologist, not a chemist; I don't think we can fault you for not thinking in terms of molecular chemistry." Paul said.

Several hours later, after having been given a complete tour of the castle, the group was now touring the exterior facilities. A track, obstacle course, and proper firing range had all been established, along with various other outdoor facilities. As Ernest explained, there was even talk of adding a pool if they could get the proper equipment.

"We've been managing to keep up morale with a lot of friendly competition and the like, but I'm pretty sure, now that we have a way home, keeping morale up won't be a problem."

At that moment, Don came up to them. "Heard we had some visitors." He said, smiling as he saw Professor Langford. "Good to see you again, Professor." He said, holding out his hand.

Langford shook it with a hearty smile. "Good to see you, too, Don." he said, then gestured at Catherine. "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Catherine, and my son-in-law, Lieutenant-"

Don cut him off with a wave, nodding. "Lieutenant Samuel Marcus. We've met." He said simply. He glanced back and forth between Catherine, Samuel, and Ernest. "You'll have to excuse me, but I thought Catherine was Ernest's-"

It was Samuel's turn to interrupt. "Later, Don." he said pointedly. "It's complicated."

Langford glanced at the group awkwardly before clearing his throat. "Ahem. Moving on, I'm not sure I like the way this weather's looking. Seems like a storm's getting ready."

"Probably nothing to be concerned about; it wouldn't be surprising if this planet had a yearly storm season. Earth does, after all. Hurricanes are a seasonal phenomena. Any sufficiently complex weather system is going to have its quirks like that. Maybe one of this planet's is seasonal superstorms that warranted an energy shield to protect the site. As far as we can tell, there's still plenty of power for the shield, so we should be okay with that. Whatever the generator system is, it's insanely long-lasting. Near as we can tell, this place has probably been abandoned for thousands of years with no maintenance. The fact that so much is still working is, quite frankly, literally unbelievable without the proof staring us in the face." Ernest said pointedly.

Paul nodded in agreement. "It's definitely proof of the engineering prowess of whoever built this place and its technology." He said simply. "Too bad we missed the architect. It would be an honor and a privilege to simply sit down and talk to him or her or it. Just to have that chance … I would give anything."

Ernest nodded emphatically. "It would be the highlight of my life to have that chance. What do you two think?" He asked, nodding at Catherine and Samuel.

"Are you kidding? I'd kill for that chance, especially if whoever made this place also made the Stargates." Catherine said excitedly.

Samuel shrugged. "I'd have to be sure they didn't want to kill or enslave us first." he said with a smirk. "If they had peaceful intentions for us, though, I'd offer to buy them a beer … after appreciating the whole 'look on my works, ye mighty, and despair' thing they've got going. The Stargates, this place … it's wonderful and terrifying. Like finding a spent rifle round the size of a house. Somebody, somewhere, somewhen, had a rifle chambered for that bastard, and they fired it at least once. You appreciate the sheer power of it, but pray they don't feel like aiming it at you."

Everyone chuckled at that, and Don took another glance at the darkening sky. "OK, everyone, I think we should pull everyone into the castle in the next couple of hours. If this storm is a seasonal thing, and it follows the way things went last year, we have just a few hours, at most, before it starts to shit on us, and it won't let up for a couple of days, at least."

Paul nodded in agreement. "I concur. And I can't wait to see this shield of the castle's in action for myself."

A few hours later, the storm had started, and Paul was staring out the window at the shield's blue glow. "I never thought I'd see something like this outside fiction." He mused. Samuel, standing next to him, nodded in agreement.

"Isaac Asimov's Foundation and William Hope Hodgson's The Night Land come to mind." He agreed.

Paul turned to stare at him. "You're familiar with those works?" He asked.

Sam nodded. "Not all us military types are so uncultured as to be ignorant of the genre and what it offers. I'm, personally quite well versed in such material."

Paul smiled. "I never said that you weren't. It's just that not a lot of people are intimately familiar with them enough to be able to name such examples. Foundation's reasonably well-known, but The Night Land, that's rather obscure."

Samuel smirked. "Paul, I'm pretty sure my knowledge would surprise you." he said.

"Well, I look forward to being surprised in the future." Paul said with a nod.

Meanwhile, in a deserted corridor, Ernest and Catherine were talking, their conversation chaperoned by Lieutenant Hammond, who had been briefed on the issues at hand after invoking his right as effective CO of the base to know if there were any issues that might affect life on the base. Fortunately, it seemed that the two of them were capable of maintaining level heads now.

"I didn't mean for it to turn out this way, Ernest." Catherine said pointedly. "At first, we were just using each other. He was trying to get on the good side of the right people, and I was trying to use him to find out more about what was going on. But then, something else developed between us. And then I got pregnant … and the rest is history."

Ernest took a moment to digest this, then spoke. "I know I was impulsive, Catherine. What I did … I can understand why you must have hated me."

"I didn't hate you, Ernest. I never hated you." Catherine said quietly. "But I had to move on. I didn't want to remain stuck on a hope that seemed increasingly unlikely. And Samuel … he was kind, caring, charismatic. I was seduced by him as much as he was seduced by me."

Ernest nodded sadly. "I'm glad you're happy, Catherine. I wish … I wish things had been different, that's all. But … if he truly makes you happy, I won't get in the way."

Catherine nodded. "Ernest, Samuel and I, we're in this program for good, now. I'm going to be taking a less active role, with having to raise a family, but Samuel's going to be more heavily involved. I need to know that, if nothing else, the three of us can remain civil and work together."

Ernest nodded slowly. "I can do that. I can try, at least."


	9. Chapter 8, Part 1: Homecomings

Chapter 8, Part One

"They can come home now."

This was what Harry Truman heard when he picked up the phone to answer Dr. Langford's call. The program had been mostly silent since their meeting last year, usually he only got a written report once every other month to give a status update on the progress their base in Nevada was making (at last report, they'd finished with the basic excavation, and were starting to add in the reinforcements so they could build the rooms; optimistically, the base would be coming online next year). For now though, they'd relocated operations to a larger warehouse at USNTS Sampson in New York. All parties had agreed that keeping the Stargate in a city warehouse wasn't the best idea, and being in a military base allowed some of the larger military equipment to be moved without much notice.

As Truman focused back to the phone call, he let the full weight of everything wash over him. He was stunned by it, but the meaning sank in quickly. The five words were quite vague in an ordinary context, but, knowing their origin, it was easy enough to realize the importance of them. If the people at Heliopolis could return, they could also bring back what they found, get it to the people who could do research in the relative safety of Earth.

More than that, they no longer had to persuade people to risk a one-way ticket.

That phone call had also been when Truman learned that a roster for the people stationed there to get a chance to return home and visit their loved ones had already been drawn up. And that the professor was planning to visit the site himself. Truman quickly made the arrangements to go there in person. After all, it was about time he saw in person what he and his late predecessor had set in motion.

Pressing a button on his desk's intercom, he spoke to his secretary.

"I need a telegraph sent to Downing Street right away please." he said.

"Certainly Mr. President, do you know what you want the message to say?"

"Tell them, 'Our friends can finally come home from their trip to the Sun Palace…'"

March 8th, 1946

Clement Attlee smiled as he looked at the telegraph again. While he had no reason to doubt Truman's word that the soldiers would be able to return, there had always been a small niggling worry that followed him over the well-being of his soldiers. Now though he could breathe a sigh of relief. Not only could they come back, but now any reservations he had about sending more resources to the American Initiative were gone.

Now sharing his office were three other men whose efforts would be key to ensuring a steady stream of support to the program from the Unite Kingdom. Sitting to his left was Albert Alexander, the First Lord of the Admiralty. In the center was Chancellor of the Exchequer Hugh Dalton and to the right was Secretary of the State of War Jack Lawson. The past several hours had been spent briefing the three on the program and current British contributions. Now they were brainstorming how else they could support and gain from the program given the Crown's limited resources. Attlee, being both Prime Minister and Minister of Defense afforded him a wide amount of sway and say with the military as well. Together the four could marshal a grand sum of the Empire's military might, as well as what remained of its financial clout.

Returning to the conversation, Attlee spoke "With the news now that a reliable two way connection back to Earth can be established, I no longer have any reservations about throwing more support behind this program." he finished to a small murmur of agreement from the three. "Though again, what are we capable of giving to the program now, and what might have to wait?"

Lawson spoke first "Well as I'm sure you know, our situation is a tad precarious right now. Currently, as I'm sure Mr. Dalton will tell you, much of our economy is tied up in our armed forces right now."

"Indeed, currently and this is without hyperbole, half of our economy is tied up in maintaining our armed forces." Dalton chimed in.

"Indeed, so our first step before we contribute anymore to the Americans will be a mass demobilization. The sooner the better, though we must ensure all our men are paid their due, and the process goes as smoothly as possible, transitioning from one to another can be a might bit tricky. Then there's the matter of our colonies."

"Ah yes, you just came back from a trip to the East, how is the situation there?"

"Honestly, it's a bit of a powder keg. The Indians in particular are clamoring for independence as I'm sure you're aware, and we're slowly losing control of the situation over there. Gandhi and his movement have done a decent job of keeping a lid on most of the people there to prevent an all-out armed revolt, but it's still tenuous. Quite frankly Mr. prime minister, I'm not sure we can hold India and even if we wanted to, as the Lord of the Exchequer will tell you, we're spending at a loss to maintain control. We're at around 2.6 Billion pounds right now, and that's rising on the order of several million more a day. By 1947, we'll be spending close to three to hold on the whole thing. In short, if we're going to embark on a new series of exploration and settlement, then we'll need to get our finances in order." he finished with Chancellor Dalton nodding in agreement.

Atlee folded his hands together in thought as he examined the situation. In addition to the Initiative, he also had plans for reforming much of the social model in Britain, healthcare and other form of welfare and assurances for the population, well-earned after more than a half decade of strife and adversity. If they wanted to reap the benefits of the American program, while jump-starting their own reform efforts, on top of making payments to the Americans they'd need to make cuts and sacrifices somewhere, and it was looking increasingly like the colonies would be the place to do it.

"We'll definitely face some backlash, but we need to find the money somewhere, we'll need to start drawing up plans for a draw down and withdrawal from India, the sooner the better preferably. Get in contact with the Viceroy and start getting some consultations done. If we do this, we'll save a few billion pounds, and if we can do it with little muss and fuss, then we have several more locations we might want to consider as well. Now lets move onto the Rolls Royce Engines…"

March 13th, 1946

Ernest, The Professor and Catherine looked at the gate as the last of the soldiers streamed through back from Heliopolis. This was the last of the group that would be coming through for their first shore leave, to borrow a naval term. The British squad had volunteered to stay behind since they'd gotten to the base later than the rest of the personnel, and someone had needed to stay behind to bring the new relief squads up to date and familiarize them with the facility. In addition, only about about twenty of the civilian personnel had also received permission to come back, a surprising number of them had decided to stay for an extended period rather than come home in the first wave (which consisted of mostly the married personnel), some like Dr. Norwich and Stevens were making surprising progress on many of the glyphs in the base, with Norwich confident he'd have the runic language cracked soon.

March 15th, 1946

"Do you have any idea what this means comrade?" Pavel asked Boris as they leafed through folders of communiques spies in Britain left for them. It was technically the purview of another department, but Pavel and Boris were the ones who usually got settled with the more esoteric letters and messages sent between nations and leaders.

"Eh, not really." Boris said as he took a puff from his cigarette. "Though my guess would be something to do with the Far East, most likely Japan."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking, but who have the Americans sent over that would warrant telling the British?"

"Dunknow. MacArthur and his team maybe?"

"Hmmm, well, we'll put this one in the pile for now. Let's get back to the bigger question, what's this Paperclip the Americans have been working on?"

March 18th, 1946

Sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, he pushed open the back gate of his house and ran into the field behind his house. He'd come upon him with no noise, and started the chase.

Don was running, he was close behind him now, but he couldn't shake him. It had seemed like the chase had been going on forever, but his hunter never seemed to waiver. He'd tried to hide in several spots, behind some bushes, even up a tree, but to no avail, his foe was just too good. Jumping down, his leg seemed to slow him down. Damn, he must have mussed it up getting out of the tree. Pushing the gate open, he went back into his family's backyard. He'd thought he finally eluded his opponent, when suddenly a blow from behind his legs sent him to his knees. Sprawled out, he felt the arms of his captor around his neck and felt resigned as he was taken prisoner.

"Ha, gotcha, Dad!" the boy exclaimed as he climbed on his father after winning yet another game of tag.

Grabbing his son from his back, Don smiled as he lifted him up "You sure did George, I guess I'm just too slow for you."

"Ha!" his son laughed as he stood up and placed him on his shoulders. "Wanna play again?"

"Maybe later." he said as they walked towards the house. "Daddy's got to rest, besides, I think your mother wants us cleaned up for dinner."

Ducking slightly so his son wouldn't hit his head on the ceiling, Don walked inside and was greeted to the smell of warm pot-roast. His wife, Molly, smiled at him as they entered.

"Dinner's almost ready you two, go wash up." she ordered as Don set George down, his son sprinting towards the bathroom. Walking to the kitchen sink, he quickly rinsed his hands and dried them before wrapping his arms around his wife and giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

Grinning cheekily, she whispered "Martha's taking some of the kids to the community center tonight for a movie, I was thinking of sending George with them, give us some time to catch up." she said with a small wink.

"I'd think he'd like that." Don said "Is it the one with the cowboys and the train?"

"Mhh, nope, I think it's the one with the sailors in Hollywood."

Just then George ran back into the kitchen, reluctantly letting his wife go, don and his son sat down at the table as she set the hot meal down in front of the two. Taking a small moment to pray, the three sat in silence for a moment before digging in. Smiling, Don served his family several pieces he'd carved.

It was good to be home…

April 6th, 1946

With the first batch of personnel well rested and back from leave, the work at Heliopolis, which had slowed down for a bit, was finally starting to pick back up and the teams were hard at work on the next plan, actually exploring a non-hostile extrasolar site.

With the recent discovery of additional addresses, both from the cartouche and a successful connection from a cold dialing (standard procedure had been to do random dials to find new locations that might not have been influenced or visited by Ra, and recently they'd gotten lucky), several self-contained atmospheric diving suits were sent through to Heliopolis. Heliopolis would conduct the initial survey of the planets, and then a team from Earth would be sent through.

Arbitrarily designated ES-4 through ES-53 (Since Earth was still Earth and the planet Ernest had connected to first, already designated ES-2, was also listed), these worlds were the first targets of exploration. Going in order, they tried ES-3 first, this had been the world found from the cold dial. They made a connection, and the probe reported no unusual activity. The video feed showed an empty field with the gate on a small raised stone platform, with the pedestal below on the field. So they geared up a gate diver in an atmospheric diving suit, attached an open-air cage containing a rat to it, and were preparing to send the diver through.

"Making final radio test, Simmons, can you hear me?" Ernest asked through the headset.

"Yeah, I read you, not sure again how I got roped into this duty again, I mean I saw the video, it looks nice, but what if the air is…I dunno corrosive or something and eats through my suit, or hell what if there's some weird bugs there that might detect my tasty human flesh and want a bite?"

Ernest looked over to Hammond and both rolled their eyes. Taking the radio, Hammond responded "Because you're currently the only one rated to operate one of those suits, Ernest can't go since it'd be a bad idea to send our leader through, and you're family has that underwater salvage company. Ergo, you're the one."

As he walked to the gate, Simmons continued "Yeah I realize that, but when I signed up for the army, I wanted to get far away from these damned bubble suits, not spend more time in them, we're training more guys for this right, I mean it's not a bad idea too…" his speech was interrupted as he walked through the gate, resuming several moments later "…have some more people who can use these things, since we have no clue what's out here. Oh, look, I'm here. When did that happen?"

"Do you see anything unusual?"

"Nope…Just lots of empty grassland, kind of reminds me of my uncles place out in the Dakotas."

"Is the rat fine?"

"Yep, little fella's just moving around in his cage, but he doesn't seem panicky or anything, just pissed that he's stuck in a damn cage."

"Okay. Start the clock!" he yelled over his shoulder as a large clock began to spin. Radioing "Okay, you remember the mission, stay put for ten minutes just to make sure everything's on the up and up. After that dial back and come home. Do you remember the address?"

"Yep, sideways Y, triangle with two handles, line, little dipper, hour glass, curved line to the left, and whatever symbol wasn't on the Heliopolis pedestal."

"Good, well hopefully you'll be back no problem."

"Well, time to pass the time. Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety nine of beer…"

Ten minutes later the radio crackled once more "…Sixty six bottles of beer on the wall, sixty six bottles of beer!"

"Simmons! It's been ten minutes, you can come back now. Are the suit and rat fine?"

"Yep they're all good. I'll be back in a second."

"Okay."

Sure enough Simmons returned to Heliopolis with no problems, and his rat was no worse for wear. Happy with the initial success, Ernest radioed Earth to let them know the initial survey was a go…

The rat didn't die, and the gate diver made a preliminary search of the area. Once that was confirmed as secure, Earth would dial in.

Paul Langford looked to the assembled group. They managed to put together another two squads, with Britain contributing one more. The count was now at six, four American and two British. This trip would be a little bit different though.

In the warehouse was a small fleet of vehicles that would be going to ES-3.

The British had sent a couple Daimler Dingos and a group of six Universal Carriers, though only three were going on this trip. Meanwhile, the US was sending two pairs through the gate, one pair of M8 Grey Hounds, and the other being a pair of M3 Scout Cars. The plan was to have the group do a thorough survey of the land around the gate, try to find civilizations they could meet with, or new resources that the program could use. While the initial impression was that the land was just an empty plain, Paul hoped the there might be more out there. If they discovered something, they could always move the gate closer to the source, since it had become apparent that gates and pedestals could be moved (they'd moved the Heliopolis pedestal a couple inches accidentally a couple weeks prior during a botched testing of the Portcullis (with the winch in the vicinity of the pedestal, they'd failed to secure it properly, so the metal grate dropped down and yanked the winch into the pedestal), and nothing bad had happened.).

The plan was to have the survey take five weeks. They were preparing to send a couple fuel trucks after the convoy to allow them to have a miniature base camp to stock up on supplies, and refill their vehicles jerry cans. Their first few tests would be to figure out a reliable means of long distance navigation on the world, since it was unknown if compass or basic celestial or solar navigation would work. If it did, then they were prepared to send a Piper Cub through to allow for a small measure of aerial surveillance and reconnaissance. Since it was easy to assemble and disassemble, they'd taken the wings off and kept the fuselage intact so that as few pieces as possible would need to be reassembled.

All in all, even with their limited resources, it was a quite impressive array of resources. They'd still only assembled a fraction of the forces they'd wanted for the Initiative, but it was still a strong start. They were still in the midst of acquiring a few more APC's and armored vehicles before they moved onto the next phase of acquisitions. Tanks. In addition to being a test for the smaller vehicles, this would also hopefully set the tone for future endeavors in the program.

Standing proudly in front of the two squads, stationed in their vehicles, he cleared his throat, felt a brief moment of deja' vu, then spoke.

"Gentlemen, I see you're all assembled. You've all been briefed about this program and its goals. We stand here now at a new phase of human existence, one where we're not bound by the cradle of our world. This device has delivered us a new way of life and a way to move beyond the stiff confines of our world. The last time we sent an expedition of this magnitude through, we discovered an alien location so advanced we haven't even scratched the surface of the potential of their technology, but if we could even tap into a fraction of it, we'll have secured a future for our people never before imagined.

"While we comb over that site, we now prepare to explore once more. This site is known as ES-3, from what we've seen it's a plain that extends far. We hope that's not all that's there. You will be apart of this grand endeavor, your goal will be to find something worthwhile beyond that gate. This site could be the start of something wonderful for our nation….no our people, and we need to simply reach out and find it. Good luck and godspeed." he finished as the gate locked the last chevron and activated. Steping aside, he watched as the vehicles filed towards the gate. The Greyhounds buttoned up and went through first, followed by the Dingos, the Universal Carriers went through next, followed lastly by the M3's, whose crews, despite the shushing from their NCOs, were hooting and whooping as they went through the gate.

Paul smiled, he couldn't wait to hear about the discoveries the scouts would make…


	10. Failures, revelations, and gas.

Chapter 8, Part Two

May 11th, 1946

Paul dejectedly set the folder down as he read the latest report. Nothing, that's what had been found at ES-3, a whole load of nothing. They'd spent five weeks exploring the area around the gate, more than one hundred square miles and found a fat load of nothing. No alien ruins, no strange new minerals, no aliens. Just miles and miles and miles of plains. The one noteworthy was that apparently the aquifer beneath the plains was massive, based on some speculation by several of the biologists when went through, one they claimed that could be as big, if not larger than the Ogallala Aquifer. While that was nice for agriculture, it was hardly what Paul had been hoping for. The Piper Cub had reported a similar story; the plain went on for hundreds of miles. Paul was trying to get authorization for a larger plane that could carry more fuel, and more fuel trucks for a potential exploration convoy, they needed to explore more and try and find something. There had to be something there, he couldn't fathom why the aliens would place such an important piece of technology like the Stargate on a worthless place.

Hopefully more would come of it.

May 13th, 1946

An's hand wafted over the crystal as the final countdown for the test began.

"All systems operational…Subsystems optimal." he said as the lights flickered.

As the system began final tests he'd thought about how they'd arrived at this point. The vile machines continued their relentless movement across Ida, devouring everything in their path. The warships of the Asgard had done their best, but were slowly losing their effectiveness, some were worried that even the mighty Bilskirnir class mother ship might not be able the stem the tide. While many were working on projects to build larger and stronger warships, An and his team were working the other way, creating smaller ships that could be manufactured more rapidly, but still wielded potent weaponry. The second component of his plan was the ability to build the ships using older parts and components from other ships used by the Asgard. While rapid fabrication technologies made much of that moot, repurposing old material rather than breaking it down and reassembling it could save valuable time. Initial tests were promising for the prototype, but now was the most important test, the hyper drive.

They'd worked with a small budget and few pieces of actual equipment, what could be reused was usually pressed into the more established designs, so the fact that they'd managed to secure an old navigational computer and new model hyperdrive was wonderful. They'd jumped over several testing steps, but if this worked, An's goals would be validated, and his people could potentially have a new weapon to turn back their foe.

"Initiating testing in three…two….one!" he said as he inserted the final crystal and watched as the ship disappeared in a hyperspace window. They hadn't placed any actual Asgard on the ship; just several blank clones to make sure the inertial dampeners were working properly. So far, all vital signs were good.

"Ship entered the window with no complications, hull integrity is fine, inertial dampener's are holding. Test is successful!"

"Excellent, bring the ship out of hyperspace and back here!"

"Yes sir, one moment….oh, oh dear." the technician said as the crystal flashed red.

"What is it?"

"I'm locked out of the navigational computer!"

"How? We made sure to purge all old data before using it!"

"I am unsure, but the ship is locked on a course and I can't override it!"

"What is our best estimate?"

"Well, we did repurpose a navigation computer from one of the old Evacuator freighters we used to use to move individuals between worlds. The system was fairly robust in order to make sure individuals made it to their intended destinations in case any failures were detected in the system. That lies in the secondary subroutines of the system, so that would have been unaffected by our purge. The ship most likely defaulted to its subroutines and is returning to its last location."

"If that's the case, then where's it going?!"

"Based on trajectory, it would appear it is leaving Ida, destination unknown."

"Can we catch it?"

"It's doubtful…We were using a new model hyperdrive, only our newest warships have those installed, and currently all of them are deployed on the frontlines…"

An curled his small hand into a fist in frustration, months of work gone, and who knew where they'd be able to get more resources. Sighing after several minutes, he finally spoke.

"Well, let's contact the shipyards to try and find new components…"

May 19th, 1946

Langford groaned as they rotated the gate's symbols once more to try and dial ES-4, and once again the slow hum started but then stopped once the last symbol was locked. Looking at the gate technician he frowned. Paul couldn't understand it. "What do you mean, it won't connect?" he asked.

"I mean, we get the sequence input, and it shakes, but it doesn't connect."

"Heliopolis connected to it less than an hour ago!" Paul exclaimed. "Ernest even said that Simmons reported the planet was heavily forested!"

"I know, Professor, and that's what doesn't make sense. We dialed Heliopolis just to be safe and everything is working fine with that. But when we dial ES-4, well…" he gestured to the inactive gate.

"Why not?"

"I don't know! The gate works fine, though. If I had to guess, I'd say that, for some reason, the connection can't be made from Earth. We have everything, but it's like we're missing that special something, and it takes a while to spin that gate around, it's not like Heliopolis where they can just dial and poof! I don't know what it is but it's like the gate is rejecting our command and..."

It hit Paul. "The pedestal!" he exclaimed.

"What?"

"We don't have a pedestal like Heliopolis or ES-2 or those other sites. Maybe the pedestal device is critical to forming certain connections. Maybe some kind of alignment issue that the pedestal resolves. Like needing an operator to connect the phone line to its destination when you're making a long-distance call."

The operator furled his brow. "I guess that makes some kind of sense, but you were in charge of the group that was excavating this thing, there wasn't a pedestal there was there?"

"Well…no." the professor said, cursing his ignorance from nearly twenty years ago. "When we found the gate I was so excited, I moved a lot of our crews away from the other sites to focus on this. In hindsight, we might have left some stones unturned."

"Well that's not too bad, we just need to go back and dig, I'm sure.."

"No, the thing is after we left, dozens of other groups went over that area, there were a lot of expeditions there in the intervening years, from what my old colleges said when I visited a few weeks ago was that the site was picked clean of most artifacts."

"Well if that's the case, then who has the pedestal now sir?"

May 23rd, 1946, St. Petersburg, Russia, USSR

Joseph Orbeli clasped his hands in anticipation as the crates were gingerly wheeled off the trucks. "Careful! Careful!" he half shouted out of habit as the pieces were being slowly moved to their new home. The past couple of years had been difficult on the State Hermitage Museum, but with careful planning and hard work, he and his colleges had managed to save most of the priceless pieces of work in the Museum before the Nazis began their siege of the city. Now that the trains had brought the art back home from their temporary safe haven in Sverdlovsk, he'd been slowly working to try and add new pieces to the museum.

Currently they were preparing a new exhibit, one that would simultaneously showcase the great works of the world, and the glory of the motherland's soldiers.

His assistant walked up to him and checked several boxes on a form. "And this is the last shipment from Berlin, sir." he said. "We just have a small group incoming from Potsdam, but this is it."

"Excellent! We'll divide the works up accordingly; we'll have the paintings in one wing sorted by date and period. The larger pieces will need some more ordering and separation."

"Then there's also the matter of the artifacts the Nazis pilfered from Egypt."

"Oh yes, those will be in the Egyptian collection, I understand we recovered a surprising amount of them?"

"Yes it was quite interesting, apparently they had sent several expeditions to Egypt and found a number of artifacts, quite a few statues and other pieces of furniture mostly." He said as a large statue of a jackal headed man was pulled from the crate.

"Wonderful, they'll make excellent additions to the exhibit…"

Several hours later, Joseph Orbeli looked with pride at the newly expanded collection from Egypt, the liberated material adding more splendors to the hall. The statues made up a new centerpiece to the exhibit hall, but other pieces were given their own place as well, a sarcophagus containing a mummy was placed near the entrance, and a collection of furniture, with a ceremonial pedestal were placed near the exit. He made sure the workers polished the stones on the pedestal to bring out their natural beauty. He'd have to remember to assign someone to inspect the symbols on it as well, they didn't seem to match any hieroglyphs from the period, but perhaps this was a new find that was for an old temple.

Lost in thought he headed to the antiquities wing to inspect the new paintings…

June 1st, 1946

"...Aaaaaaaand with that, we have soil sample X-87 secure, moving to secondary site four sample collection of X-88" Dr. Monroe muttered to himself excitedly as he picked up a small vial of dirt and walked back towards the jeep.

Simmons was bored. ES-3 had no mystery or wonder to it, compared to the splendor that was the castle of Heliopolis, this place was more boring than a small farm on the plains, at least there you crops to watch out for, here, he only had an egghead to babysit.

He took a long dreg from his cigarette and sighed. When he learned he'd be going to other planets, he'd envisioned something more like the adventures he used to read out of the old magazines he used to read, ray guns, space princesses, amazing adventures, but so far all he did was sit around and occasionally go into one of the damned bubble suits. Hardly the glamour filled life of a space explorer he'd imagined.

As the doctor entered the jeep, Simmons sighed, back to the boring grind. Absentmindedly, he flicked his cigarette away and jumped into the driver's side of the jeep.

Suddenly a large fireball erupted several feet away, in the direction of his cigarette.

"THE FUCK?!" he screamed as he shielded his eyes. After several seconds, he lowered his arm to see a small fire burning over the ground.

"The fuc…" he started to say before Monroe chirped in.

"My goodness! Simmons…I think you found a natural gas deposit!"

"I wha..?"

"Yes natural gas, sometimes it exists in pockets close to the surface, or veins have shafts that extend upwards. It must have been seeping close up and that cigarette…How did I possibly miss that? Never mind, Simmons this is great, we finally hav…" The doctor was cut off as the fire began to expand around where the ball scorched the grass, quickly consuming the brownish plants that made up the plains.

"Oh shit!" they both yelled as Simmons hit the accelerator and drove towards the fire, if they were lucky, maybe they could use the wheels to stamp it down before it spread…

Later that day-Heliopolis

Sitting in the chair of his makeshift office, Lieutenant Hammond pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to the two repeat their story again.

"So….You two started a wildfire after flicking a cigarette onto a natural gas pocket."

"It was an accident, honest!"

"Then you proceeded to spend the next hour and a half driving over the site putting out the fire with your wheels."

"Well yeah, we couldn't let the well burn, or let the fire spread out too far unless we wanted to endanger operations on ES-3 an…"

"At ease Simmons, I'm not mad at you, I'm just … I'm honestly at a loss for words. Your little discovery might have just given us some help, honestly."

"Sir?" Simmons asked.

"We've been stumped about what we're going to do with this site. Apart from some small scale agricultural efforts to supply Earth base and any other ES sites we might come across, there wasn't a lot of value here. Even a base would require fuel and it'd be inefficient to ship it through the Stargate each day. With the natural gas deposit here though, we could move the Stargate closer and even potentially establish a base of operations here, it'd give us a hell of a lot more room compared to Heliopolis that's for sure. We'll know more when Langford talks to Truman next month, in the meantime, I'll need you to go back and mark down exactly where that gas pocket was. If we're lucky there might be more there."

"Yes Sir." Simmons said as he turned to walk away.

"One more thing…You might want to shower, you're getting soot all over the place."

"Oh…" Simmons said as he locked down and realized his uniform was caked beneath a thick layer of dark brown soot.

"Whoops."


	11. Budgets and politics

Chapter 9

June 8th, 1946

Washington, D.C.

Paul sat down in the White House chair as he prepared to give his bi-monthly report to Truman. Both had agreed that occasional meeting in person would allow both to have a better exchange of ideas and better coordination between the Initiative and the government. Filling Truman in on the latest discovery, he could see a note of disappointment in the president's eyes.

"So the long and short of it is Professor, is that without this pedestal, we can't reliably connect our stargate to other planets?"

"Correct. Until we can secure it, or find an alternative system of dialing, it will be a crapshoot if Earth could connect with another planet, and as you're aware, we need Earth to be a primary support base. Heliopolis can't hold the large number of vehicles and other large pieces of equipment we'll need to explore and defend ourselves with. We've considered knocking out some walls to potentially expand and create room near the gate room, but with the unknown metal reinforcing the walls, and the general age of the structure, we're worried we'd end up doing more harm than good if we tried to do that"

"I understand that, but can't we continue to explore via Heliopolis until we figure out the gate situation here? I understand that was our plan originally anyways."

"I'd caution against that. I've been brainstorming with more of my compatriots, unless we can have a reliable system of backup to support our personnel in the field, it wouldn't be advisable to just send squads through without that potential for backup. I've been talking with Lieutenant Hammond and he agrees. While our infantry squads are versatile and quite competent, relying on them in their entirety wouldn't be prudent tactically."

Truman cupped his hands on the desk and sat back for several moments, deep in thought before he continued. "If that's the case Doctor, what are our options?"

Opening his briefcase, Langford withdrew several papers and maps.

"We've been tossing around the idea of building a base on a third planet and using that as a place we can call for backup. The trick being it would have to be a planet Earth could dial and a world that could support such a base. Fortunately, despite our exploration setbacks, we believe that ES-3 has the potential to be that base."

"Now correct me if I'm wrong doctor, but didn't we find nothing worthwhile on that world? Just lots of plains?"

"Correct, however, several days ago, we discovered that the world seems to have a large reserve of natural gas." Paul said sliding a paper over Truman. "Estimates are still rough, but we believe that there are millions of cubic feet of easily accessible natural gas on ES-3, well within range of the Stargate, and if need be, we could slowly build up an infrastructure for secondary extraction sites further out. We were so focused on looking for ruins or other useful above ground things that we didn't look below our feet; incidentally, we're rectifying any future survey plans for other worlds to reflect this, including geological surveys as part of the initial exploratory procedures. As for ES-3, with all of this easily accessible gas, we realized that we could establish an off world base that could be self-sufficient. If we set up basic equipment we could pump the gas into a small refinery and use that as fuel for a base, giving it power and a source of heat all at one area."

Reading over the paper, Truman took several moments before speaking again.

"That makes sense, and having a location that could be self-sufficient like that would be incredibly useful. However, mining and refining equipment, not to mention the supplies and personnel necessary to establish such a location would be quite expensive. Would the program be able to do this in conjunction with the money already set aside for Area 52?"

Wringing his hands, Paul looked down for several seconds before looking up to speak. "We've run the numbers, Mr. President, and between the costs of building and developing Area 52, bringing in supplies and personnel to Heliopolis and payments to personnel and such, we're still several million dollars short to build a base on ES-3 that meets the specifications. Ordinarily a location like that wouldn't have so many costs, but given the need for secrecy and the dual development of the bases, as well as our resource and personnel acquisitions we found that we would be short a bit. If these were just normal bases we could build several dozen with the funds allocated, but given that we're designing them to be sophisticated locations that can be self-sufficient and durable, the cost overlays for just two locations on top of our traditional funding concerns have left us with a potential dearth. As you know sir, Congress has been trying to cut every discretionary program they can get their hands on. We were counting on the war continuing to bring in a steady stream of funds, but unfortunately this was not the case. I hope you understand sir that conducting these programs and operations outside the legal appropriations structures is very difficult to maintain. The watchdog organizations are constantly exposing extra-legal funding. Were having a hard enough time as it is with the funding caps since the war ended so quickly after we brought the gate to your attention, we were only able to get some of the money allocated to the program, around only half of what we had planned. With the additional Congressional scrutiny, siphoning off an extra fifty million might prove to be a tad difficult if we don't operate within existing structures, lest anyone starts asking questions."

Truman nodded as he slid the paper towards the Doctor.

"I appreciate the honest response doctor, I understood that a program like this would certainly cost a significant amount of money, I had just hoped that it would last a bit longer. I've been talking with Attlee, and the Brits are willing to scrap together a few million pounds for the program. British government is willing to pay several million pounds to the program. Considering the war debt they've accumulated and the rebuilding efforts on the Isles this is quite generous. They've wanted to send additional personnel, which I've been happy to grant. Still if the numbers are true, then even that amount won't help cover all the gaps. You're right also in that with the limited amount of funds we secured, having everything established will be more difficult."

Tapping his fingers against his desk, Truman began to think. After several more minutes he spoke.

"Doctor, continue your construction as planned, I'll talk with Marshall about rerouting a battalion of engineers to the program so we can start work on ES-3. I'll need to hold a meeting with some of the joint chiefs. I'm thinking we're going to need to make some tough decisions to keep this program well funded. It's going to be tough, for sure, after all everyone is holding onto their piece of the budget like gambling cards. Nevertheless, I'll get to work to try to sort things out. It might just take a little time.

Truman put his hand in his heads. "And dear god wait till the chiefs hear me say the word 'cuts'! Oh my . . . "

We might need to make some cuts elsewhere to make this really stick…"

August 16, 1946

. ES-3

Simmons had somehow found himself in charge of supervising the assembly of the US Army's second off world base, which, from what he'd been told, was being unofficially called Fort Roosevelt. He thought it a suitable name to commemorate the man without whom the entire operation probably wouldn't have existed.

At least it wasn't a difficult task; he mainly had to make sure the Army construction guys kept working and didn't screw up the assembly of the prefabricated structures that would make up the base until funds for a more permanent installation similar to the Initiative base on Earth could be appropriated. A simple barracks had already been assembled, as had a mess hall, latrine and gateroom, with a command center and garage for the vehicles well underway. With the exception of the gateroom, all the structures were temporary prefabrications. One of the first things he'd ordered put up was a Portcullis assembly over the gate, this one a slight variation on the Heliopolis assembly. It resembled the historical structure from which the name had been derived more closely, being mounted in vertical tracks and simply sliding up and down instead of swinging up and down. In addition, they had opted for a full plate design in lieu of a grate, the argument being that weapons fire could more easily penetrate a grate with all the holes than an armor plate that could completely cover the wormhole.

The gateroom design took advantage of the recent discovery that matter could pass through the rear of the event horizon of the wormhole unaffected, with a single .50 caliber machine gun mounted behind the gate, controlled via electronic trigger mechanism from a booth off to the side. Similar to the Earth base's design, there were additional firing slits located along the left and right sides of the room while facing the gate. A flamethrower mounted off to the side of the gate, slightly in front of the Portcullis, could torch anything that came through short of armored vehicles.

Just because they could block the door didn't mean an enemy couldn't find a way to affect it. For all they knew, the energy weapons employed by the Eagle Warriors could vaporize the grate. They weren't letting themselves think the facility invulnerable, that point was well driven home when he saw several soldiers fumble around with a wooden pole trying to drive it into the ground. Thinking a military installation unassailable had dragged the US into a war just five years ago, and was a mistake he and the other soldiers would be reluctant to allow once more. Unlike the Earth base, if an enemy managed to breach the gate room position, they could easily overwhelm the base. Simmons shook his head at that thought, they had to secure the funding to make the base more fortified, and to get the equipment and personnel to start harvesting the natural gas beneath the base.

Simmons flicked his cigarette down and carefully stamped it out. They still had a lot of work to do…

The next supply shipment was due, and Simmons watched as the Stargate engaged. Moments later, a loud rustling sound erupted nearby, and he snapped his head over to look. A huge flock of bird-like creatures had burst from the grass where they were hiding at the sound of the gate's kawoosh. Simmons gazed at it for a moment, memories from school springing to mind of a time when the plains of North America were filled with herds of bison and flocks of birds so numerous they could block out the sun, as they always did when something reminded him of the state of this world. ES-3 had a lot of birds, and one of the Cub's exploration flights had spotted a herd of large land animals, something roughly analogous to buffalo. This planet had never felt the yoke of industrial civilization until now. Simmons vaguely wondered how much longer these flocks of birds and herds of animals had before they too suffered. One day, this world might be overrun by mankind, clearing out the native life to make room for Earth plants, animals, and people.

September 1st

, 1946

Langford adjusted his necktie with tender care as he sat down at the small conference table. He'd received a call from Truman several days prior telling him to come down to Washington as he had summoned the Joint Chiefs for a meeting to discuss re-appropriation of the military budget. Landford assumed that would have raised some eyebrows amongst the generals. No matter, Truman has promised that the matter of funding the Stargate Initiative was either going to be decided today, or not at all. to come down to D.C as soon as possible, specifically that this was regarding the SGI's funding.

Over the past month, Truman had designated an aid to run around the federal government to try to put together bundles of whatever spare funding he could find for the program. The order, while admirable, achieved very little. There simply was no spare or unused funding throughout the agencies. Furthermore, the second they started digging too deeply, the watchdogs and the Appropriations Committee members would probably be over the heads.

He honestly wasn't quite sure what was going to happen, but he'd been told to bring the film reel and be prepared to bring several important people up to speed. He'd just finished setting up the film projector when the doors opened and President Truman filed in with George Marshall and several other men, most were in uniforms.

As the Joint Chiefs men quickly sat down, Paul prepared for what he expected would be a very tense meeting. realized that they were the Joint Chiefs, He recognised them all of course. There was Marshall, along with Admirals Leahy and King, as well as General Arnold. along with Marshall, there were Admirals Leahy and King, and General Arnold. The other two men who filed in last he quickly recognized as Secretary of War Patterson and Secretary of the Navy Forrestal. The most important men behind the United States military apparatus were all assembled here. For not the first time, he felt in awe of where he stood.

Before Langford could even get in a word in, Leahy had cut through the defining silence.

"So," he began, "apparently we're here to discuss new appropriations. If that's the case, I fail to understand the overabundance of secrecy going on."

Truman spoke up. "Well, professor, now that we're here, could you please bring those of us here up to speed who haven't already been?"

Nodding, Langford started up the projector and for fifteen minutes briefed the senior military leaders of his nation about the Stargate, the Initiative, Heliopolis, the Eagle Warriors, and everything else related to the program. By the time he was finished, he saw that many of the men were diligently taking notes and scribbling other things down on the notepads in front of them.

Looking around Standing up, Truman addressed the men around the room, looked at the men assembled in front of him. "Well gentlemen, now that you've been brought into the loop, we need to discuss a matter of great importance, how we're are going to continue to fund this project."

Immediately, Admiral Leahy spoke up "Excuse me sir, but I was under the impression that you had already started to fund this effort. I don't see why the matter of funding this small program has to include all of us. Unless, that is . . ."Why do you need us here to discuss that, I'd have thought you wanted us here to discuss strategy." He finished to a small murmur of agreement in the crowd.

"Yes," Truman replied, "Cuts. We're going to need them to sustain the funding levels we have."

"So far," he continued, "General Marshall has been coordinating with our soldiers in the program to effectively defend our off world positions. , aAs Professor Langford said, the main issue now is is now, building advance facilities we can use as footholds, research facilities and even manufacturing locations. The need for secrecy has been taking up quite a bit of our funding as well as providing the sophisticated technology necessary to enable the program to have a better chance of understanding any potential alien technology and combat any hostile forces."

"Apart from the bases we're trying to build, we have the need to recruit personnel who can keep a secret, and bring in enough support to keep them maintained in secret. That has raised the cost overhead significantly. We're projecting that if and when the SGI's attached military unit reaches its projected division size, it will be operating on the budget of one or even two corps. That's also not including the start up costs of establishing the bases, support networks, facilities, and other things needed. " Marshall chimed in.

"When the Professor approached me with the program, I approved a budget of one hundred million dollars, we were still at war at the time and we could sweep a lot of the budget under the rug, but the war ended Japanese surrendered far sooner than we thought, and while we managed to secure a good portion of that money, for future budget allocations we need our branches to help chip in and redirect some of the budget flow. We won't be able to keep a big ticket item like Area 52 on the docket and not raise a few eyebrowseye brows. If you open your packets gentlemen, you'll see the proposals General Marshall and a few others have come up with to help supplement the budget."

The officers opened their manila envelopes and began to scan the documents. Professor Langford began to slowly read his papers. The proposals listed out potential cuts for the armed forces in various areas. The first on the docket was the Army. A list of military vehicles would have their production dates pushed back, some even years. He was looking at the requests for the scrapping of the M46 - Patton armored car development when he heard a fist hit the table. , he was looking at a reduced number of armored cars when he heard a fist hit the table.

"Are you serious?" Paul saw Admiral King ask, his tone of voice dry and dangerous.

Truman merely cocked his head to the side and turned to face the admiral. Langford closed his eyes. He had gone over the proposal himself, and he knew exactly the source of anger.

"Unacceptable!" Paul saw Admiral King exclaim. "You're asking us to gut our Essex-class battle groups and are cancelling the rest of our Midways? We need our battle groups and their carriers to remain effective!" King exclaimed, "Do you have any idea how much of a dent that's going to put in our readiness capabilities!?"

"Admiral, with all due respect, the operational costs of our carrier battle groups is one of the highest in the military, surely you can see why we had to make certain cuts there?" Marshall piped in trying to calm the admiral.

"Bullshit! The Navy has been cutting its corners to make ends with the budget for years! All the while, we provide the most important service to the defence of this country! The Navy has to cut out some of its core while the army only has to cut some of the homeland divisions who never went overseas? These battlegroups are the key to maintaining US supremacy over the seas! Can't you see that! You're going to make us scrap the Coral Sea, stop producing any further Midway-class carriers, AND decommission 16 Essexes! You can either have me or these damn cuts, but you goddamn can't have both!""

"We're planning on introducing upgrades to the Long Hulls in the reserve fleet, while we assign 6 short hulls to mothball, the rest of the short hulls will be in line for upgrades. They'll still be within reach should we need them, but for our current purposes this will be sufficient."

"And what is that current purpose, General Marshall?" SecNav Forrestal chimed in. "Our navy is the front line for the protection of our nation. With the Axis powers defeated, everybody is going to be vying for control of the seas, and we must be the ones to maintain peace on the waters. We're not going to be able to do that if our own Commander-in-Chief is holding a knife at our back!" , while yes we have a significant amount of forces stationed overseas at the moment, it will be our fleet that protect the mainland."

"Protect us from what Mr. Secretary?" General Hap Arnold asked "The Germans and the Japanese have been defeated. With our atomic monopoly and current airpower, which will remain largely unchanged, we have more than sufficient force to stop any threats to America."

"The Soviets. Do you really think they're just going to sit back and do nothing while we rebuild Europe while simultaneously cutting our forces?"

"Mr. Secretary, while I can safely say that none of us here enjoy the Soviet Union or what it stands for, pray tell, how will they attack us or invade our lands?" Truman asked. "We hold a monopoly on atomic weapons, and the carriers we will have remaining still outnumber the Soviet Navy by a significant margin."

"Infiltrators, saboteurs, other agents. Do you think the Soviets are going to start a fight right out of the gates? No, they'll work slowly at first, weeding their way into society and the governments of our nation and our allies. They'll weaken us, then they'll strike. Our navy and our marines will be at the forefront of any possible engagement, they'll be among the first to fight and die against the Red menace, and instead of strengthening them, you're prepared to cut their operational costs the most? For what? A gate that goes through space, which could also connect us to more potentially hostile powers."

"Well with the gate being under the auspice of the Army, we'll need the budget to maintain it's operations, and since the Army Air Force is the group that's responsible for delivering our atomic weapons, both groups will need to keep their strength." Marshall said.

Still fuming, Admiral King spoke once more. "Don't lie to our faces, George, and say that this is all unfortunate. We all know what's going on. You've been pushing this damned Armed Forces Unification plan through for years, and now that we have some new toys, you're going to try and force it!" Standing, he angrily gathered the papers in front of him "This nation needs its Navy and Marines! Until this actually becomes a civilized conversation about protecting our nation and not gutting its defenses, I'll be in my quarters!" With that he marched out of the conference room. Admiral Leahy and Secretary Forrestal both stood as well.

"Unacceptable." was all Leahy said.

"The war may be over gentlemen, but the threat to this nation isn't gone." With that both men departed as well.

The room stewed in silence for several minutes. General Marshall adjusted some papers, Truman was pinching the bridge of his nose, while Professor Langford sat and looked at the papers. Finally, the president spoke.

"Well that could have gone better." He said.

"Don't feel too bad, Mr. President." Marshall replied sympathetically. "Between the Army and the Air Force, our nation is well secured; the Navy and Marines are just going to have to accept a smaller role in the new world."

"Still we need them here to agree on a budget proposal, I don't want them sneaking to Congress over this." Sighing, he turned over a paper. "Anyways, Dr. Langford, I'm going to have to ask that you be patient as we try and sort this out. Keep building your bases as best as you can, but be prepared."

"We will."

"Now before we adjourn, I'd like to bring up another topic. As we all know, the SGI will need the most qualified personnel in its command, considering the potential threats we face, we'll need skilled personnel and crews for operations. While we already have combat squads in place, we still need to acquire tanks and their crews as well. With that in mind, we also have to realize we have a number of skilled personnel in our military who currently don't receive the recognition they deserve and who are quite skilled."

Confused, Langford looked at Truman. "Mr. President?"

"Doctor, I've been discussing this at length with Generals Marshall and Arnold, and we want to start integrating our military."

Paul let the sentence hang in the air for several moments before speaking again "…Sir?"

Standing up, Truman walked over to a window before continuing "I've seen the papers, read the reports, we're getting more and more of them each day. Non-white soldiers are coming home after having risked everything for this nation, and are they getting the ticker-tape parades and the congratulations? No, they're coming back to the same mistreatment, the same abuse. Meanwhile, while we try and champion the fact that we're the shining beacon of freedom and liberty to the world, the Soviets are putting their money where their mouth is. How can we claim to be the true arbiters of freedom and equality when so many in our nation can't even use a clean bathroom without getting beaten? I can't force the states to change, but we can damn well make sure our military is equal."

"We want to use the SGI as a test bed, we're planning on having an African American tank crew join the Initiative, and if that holds well enough, we'll start integrating the units as a whole. Slowly at first, obviously, we're not going to break up your team's cohesion, but we're planning on eventually bringing in more nonwhite forces." General Marshall said.

Langford looked down for several seconds before speaking. "I, personally, have no problem with this; I've studied enough of the past to know that humanity is the same regardless of where one is from … But a lot of my soldiers are from the South, general, and while they're good at following orders, I can't watch them all the time."

"We know, but this decision is final, plus it opens up your group to more potentially skilled personnel than would be available otherwise."

"I realize that, I just hope the men will see it that way…"

September 2nd, 1946. Heliopolis

Lieutenant Hammond was not pleased.

"A colored tank crew? Professor Langford, are you joking?"

"No, Lieutenant, I'm not. One of the tanks assigned to the ES-3 base is going to be from the 761st Tank Battalion."

"What the hell is Truman thinking?" he muttered.

"Do you have a problem with serving with colored men, Lieutenant?" Langford asked.

"I'm a Texan. I'll admit, maybe I don't have the same views as you people from up North, and I have my preferences. Hell, I especially don't like not having a say in the matter of how my teams will be operating."

"Lieutenant. Will you have a problem serving with men from a negro unit?"

Taking a deep breath, Hammond spoke, slowly and deliberately. "I know the 761st's reputation, they're good soldiers from what I hear. If these men can serve as well as they did in Europe, I won't complain. They're fellow soldiers after all. I'm worried about how this will affect unit cohesion and combat effectiveness. Some of the other people might not be so accepting. A lot of my boys are from the South, too, and they will not take kindly to having to potentially answer to a negro."

"It's a tank crew, not a command unit."

"Yeah, it's just some ground pounders like us, but how long until Negros of higher ranks might be called in? Plus this is probably just the start, isn't it? More colored personnel will come. You'll be asking us to share our mess halls, our common areas, our showers, our beds. A lot of the soldiers will be uncomfortable to at the least, and who knows what some might try and do."

"Can you keep it under control?"

"I can keep my men in line, Professor." Don said stiffly. "But I can't change the way they think."

Later that day, Hammond was talking to Simmons.

"Simmons, be honest with me: what do you think of the decision to bring in a colored tank crew?" Hammond asked.

"Frankly, sir, I think it's a bad idea. And so do most of the men I've talked to. A couple of the boys from Alabama haven't exactly had kind words about the President or the Professor."

"How bad?"

"I think the term 'Nigger lover' and Spooks were tossed around with more gusto than usual."

Sighing Hammond closed his eyes for several seconds before he spoke again "We'll have to keep an eye on those two then. As for the rest of us, well, we'll just have to grit our teeth and bear with it, we're soldiers after all."

"Right sir, doesn't mean we have to like doing this is all."

"I understand, Sergeant, but I expect you and the others to treat them as you would any fellow soldiers. The Professor is sympathetic, but he's not exactly going to be arguing for our case. At the very least we're getting some men from a well-respected battalion and we'll show them the courtesy they are due. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir. Perfectly clear, sir."

"I expect you to let me know if there are any problems."

August 20th, 1946. ES-3

"Now that is a scary sight." Simmons commented as they watched as the first of a half-dozen M4 Shermans rolled through the gate and down the ramp that had been placed over the steps.

Lieutenant Hammond nodded. "It sure is." he replied. "You know, if those Eagle Warrior types don't use ground vehicles, they may be in for a hell of a rude awakening."

Simmons nodded a few moments later as the last tank rolled down. At the top of the copula was a dark skinned man with a serious look on his face, after a couple of seconds he ducked his head down and barked several orders before reappearing.

"Those them?" he asked.

"Yep, Staff Sergeant Harold Shepard and his crew. Saw action at Moyenvic and Morville-lès-Vic. They were with Patton's march to Bastogne and were part of the spearhead that helped breach the Siegfried line."

"Sounds like you did some homework sir."

"I read the personnel files, same with the other crews; we're getting two veteran tanks from North Africa and three other Normandy crews. All in all we're getting a good crop of personnel with this shipment and I hear word the Brits are going to send a trio of Cromwells as well."

Simmons nodded as the tanks pulled into the hastily erected hanger, disappearing from sight. "I'm just nervous about air support. If they have something like a fighter plane, especially if it has anything like the energy staff that killed the probe, I don't know how much good the armor will do." Simmons said.

"We'll figure it out. Hopefully, it'll be a long time before we have to deal with serious engagements, though..."


	12. Chapter 10, Part 1: The Slow March of Progress

Chapter 10, Part One

October 16th, 1946

President Truman had been busy for the past couple of months.

While the SGI continued their building efforts and their slow recruitment and acclimatization process with said recruits (though he heard some of the colored soldiers were being given a difficult time), he'd been busy meeting with the Admirals trying to hammer out an agreement. So far, that too had little success.

They'd managed to talk the Admirals down to a significant fleet reduction plan over the next several years, with many of the Essex carriers being mothballed and given small improvements. The fact they even agreed to bring the numbers down to the level Marshall and Truman wanted, was even more of a victory. But now the Navy was demanding newer responsibilities and agreements for the future before the committed to any action. Apparently ideas were being kicked around for a "super carrier" and King had been dropping hints that if Truman and the others backed the construction of a couple of the craft, they'd swing fully around. That however, was the last thing they needed, a white elephant project for the navy. While it was still hearsay, the proposal for the ship would place it at over eighty thousand tons full. It would be the largest, most expensive warship ever produced by the United States. Considering they were trying to save money, Truman couldn't see himself agreeing to such a plan. Though admittedly, if such a ship was being planned, it was still in the conceptualization phase, no plans or blueprints had been presented.

He sighed, this was frustrating as all hell, they needed to secure funds for the SGI, while avoiding a large disclosure to the Congress, the fewer people involved, the better. That was one thing he was thankful for, none of the admirals, or even Forrestal, had gone to a congressman or senator. At least their dislike for the other politicians was working in their favor at least for the moment. Sighing again, he wished Marshall were here instead of China, he had a way of getting things put into order.

Approaching a set of doors, he glanced down at the speech in his hand. It was simple, but effective, this would be his first time addressing the "United Nations", and he wanted to give them good news.

The monsters at Nuremberg had paid the ultimate price for their crimes today, he'd hoped that was good news enough.

December 31st, 1946

Pavel was lying on his back, the hard ground was rough on his flesh as he struggled to stand. The air was thick with an impermeable black haze, obscuring everything beyond several meters, a soot biting his eyes. As he sat up, he could hear a faint whine in the air, a noise that even as he plugged his ears for several seconds, he could not ignore. Every several seconds, a loud thump would faintly echo though the area. Reaching out, he felt a brick wall on both sides of himself, forming a narrow corridor.

Limping to his feet, he leaned against the wall, bracing himself slightly, before righting himself. Walking slowly, he moved forward, for what seemed like a small eternity. He seemed to be going nowhere, the passage advancing forever, yet he kept walking, now hearing faint voices in the distance. The strange whine became louder, with the thumps becoming more and clearer and now small, rapid sounding whumps.

Continuing forward, he finally saw a split in the path up ahead. A T-junction was forming. Pavel advanced as quickly as he could, wanting to finally get out of the claustrophobic passage. Walking closer and closer, he realized that it was opening up into a larger area. It wasn't a junction, but an entire new area. Stepping cautiously, he moved into the area, meanwhile the haze slowly began to lift. Stone bricks and concrete littered the ground, creating an uneven pathway. Small piles of wood and stone broke up the uneven ground further, as twisted pieces of metal completed the destructive mosaic. Moving towards the middle, he saw tall buildings with large holes, bricks running down the sides like rivulets of blood on a fresh wound. All the while the whine, thuds and whumps were becoming louder and louder.

Looking up, he stumbled over something and fell flat, curious as there had been nothing there previously. Rolling over, he looked at his feet and saw a large mass of grey. Poking it with his foot, the grey slowly became to move, contorting, and becoming a shape, a shape that slowly rose as it solidified. As it reached it's full size of something not even two meters tall it became a person, clad in a grey uniform. He stared at the figure, frozen.

The stranger slowly turned to Pavel, small tufts of sandy blond hair clinging to its head; the rest of the skull was dark black and crisscrossed with angry red streaks. As it completed its turn, Pavel realized that is was a boy, a boy with dull blue eyes that lazily looked at his surroundings. Blood rolled down his forehead and collected on the front of his uniform. After he scanned the horizon several times, he looked down as Pavel, his dull eyes piercing him. Snapping too, he attempted to back away, getting only several paces back, before he found his back to a wall that materialized out of the din. The boy still stared at him, and slouched forward, dragging his feet as he moved closer. The whine became ever louder, becoming more of a piercing scream.

The boy stood over Pavel, who now struggled to move. He just stared, tilting its head to the side, the blood now trickling down onto his pants. The whine was now unbearable as it pierced his ears and tickled the base of his skull. The whumps became even faster, even louder until finally a loud explosion drowened out the other noises an washed over Pavel.

The dull haze that had remained behind the boy quickly began to clear, as several large balls of fire began to shoot across the sky, falling towards the two. Pavel screamed…

Awakening in a cold sweat, Pavel shot up. Breathing quickly, he took stock of his surroundings. He was on a small lumpy couch, in the tenement he'd called home for the past three years. Several small bare light bulbs kept the room illuminated. A small table held a half empty glass next to his couch, while a coat rack held a single dress coat that went with a uniform.

Slowing his breathing, he stared out into space for several moments and collected his thoughts. It had been his ritual for three years now, and it worked best. Swinging his legs to the side, he sat back on his couch and massaged his temples. After soaking in the silence for several minutes, he took the half empty glass and emptied its remaining content, the liquid burning his mouth and throat as he swallowed it with a grunt. Quickly shaking his head, he looked up at the clock on his wall. Eight twenty three, that would mean Boris would…

A loud knock on the door woke Pavel up entirely.

"Comrade! Are you there? We've got to go, the banquet is starting soon!"

"Coming!" he grunted as he fumbled along the floor of the couch. After a couple of moments he found the hilt of his walking stick. Standing had never an issue; it was always moving that was the tough part. He grunted as he felt an intense pain in his right leg as he accidentally shifted on his right leg as he adjusted his cane. In that he was slightly thankful that his job was primarily a desk job, one he didn't have to move around much to do, though it made going to the gym a pain, Those dammed isometric exercises took so much longer to do than the old ones he did in basic training.

Grabbing the jacket, he flung it over his shoulders, the medals on the front juggled slightly as he moved. Standing in front of a small mirror by the door, he examined his suit, looking for defects as buttoned the top button. Standing straight, he massaged out a crease before taking a deep breath. Opening the door, he saw Boris, dressed similarly, a military dress uniform, and several medals arraigned lovingly across his breast.

"Ah, good you're awake! Let's head on out, I want to get there before all the good booze is taken!"

Nodding, he closed the door behind him and followed Boris. After a couple of minutes they left the building and got into Boris's car. Driving down the roads in Moscow, Pavel tuned Boris out as he droned on about the night's festivities.

"…New year's is always a golden opportunity my friend, so many people, maybe we'll find you a nice girl, eh comrade, get you to finally have a smile on your sour face."

"I'm married." Pavel said, instinctively clutching the two small rings he kept around his neck on bare chain.

"Well you could have fooled me comrade, I never see you with anyone, and we've known each other for three years! Where is this mystery wife and why haven't I met her?"

"She's away." he replied stiffly, staring ahead.

"Really? Where?"

"Crimea."

"No way! I know someone in Sevastopol…" Boris mentioned for a half second before pausing. Pavel could have sworn he saw a small frown Boris's before he took a swig from his flask and returned to his stupid grin. "Ah…well anyways, you should introduce us sometime! I promise I'll try not to get her to break your heart" he said playfully elbowing Pavel in the ribs. He responded by looking out the window.

It was going to be a long night…

That fear was quickly proven true as he spent a good portion of the evening making sure Boris didn't make an ass out of himself at the banquet. He had to pull him away from no less than three officials' wives, two daughters, one girlfriend (and awkwardly) one ex-girlfriend who happened to be up several more levels compared to Boris. Luckily now, he was sitting in a chair, slowly sobering up. It was still twenty minutes to midnight.

Glancing around the room, he saw dozens of people slowly making their way around, dancing occasionally, talking, socializing, and even slipping away. Apart from Boris, it was actually a pleasant engagement, though Pavel had little time to enjoy it. Still, since he didn't have to listen to Boris's babbling, it was a small blessing. That was until Boris turned his head and his eyes widened. Snapping to attention Boris sat up straight and stared behind Pavel.

Sipping his cocktail, he felt a tap on his shoulder, turning, he saw two men; Sub-Director Vladimir Romanov, and…

"Ah! Agent Borodin! It's a pleasure to see here, nice to get out of the office every once and a while." The director said as Pavel nodded along. He had a decent rapport with the sub-director, he'd helped him with a cryptographically challenging problem in the last parts of '44 and as thanks, been assigned to his current post. According to the bureaucratic spider web of posts and positions, he'd moved up three ranks with the new posting, but somehow ended up having to share an office.

"Anyways! I hear you're working on a project, something to do with the Americans?"

"Yes, we're trying to decipher the meaning behind a program they initiated a year or so ago. Apart from a name, and a very small money trail, we've had no luck so far. Although there does appear to be some cooperation with the British going on, which we can't at this point positively link with the project we're trying to crack."

"They're keeping it fairly quiet, we're hoping it's something fairly big, maybe like their atomic bomb." Boris chimed in, sounding as though he'd instantly sobered up.

Romanov's eyes narrowed and looked behind Pavel. "Agent Krylov, why am I not surprised to see you on your ass? Stand up!" he ordered. Boris quickly shot up, and then stumbled slightly. Shaking his head, Romanov continued, "Go, go get me a drink Krylov, that's something you can do. Get one too for my friend here." He said gesturing to the man beside him as Boris scrambled away. "Where are my manners? Pavel, this is Mikhail Sedlak, he's a friend of mine from GRU, and he's working with me on a joint assignment."

Sedlak extended a hand, which Pavel reluctantly shook after shifting his drink to the table and moving his cane to his other hand. He frowned slightly as he stepped back, just as Boris came back with a pair of beverages, giving them to the two men.

"Borodin…Borodin. Ah I remember, didn't we meet a couple years ago?" He asked, though his tone indicated this was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes…We did. At the National Hospital."

"Ah, I remember…terrible business that was."

"It was…"

The two men stood for a couple seconds, Pavel would have shuffled his feet had his cane not prevented that.

"Anyways, I actually was hoping to speak with you. Sub-Director Romanov speaks very highly of you, and we've seen some of your work in analysis. Our department is currently expanding, and I'm looking for some qualified people to fill ranks. You'd be doing good work there, and Director Romanov has already said he'd approve the transfer." he mentioned gesturing to Romanov, who raised a glass.

"It's a good opportunity agent, you'd get out of that dingy office and away from…that." he motioned to Boris, who looked down.

Pavel didn't need time to think, he knew his answer.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to pass. I'm satisfied where I am right now."

"Ah….well a pity. My offer is always open Pavel, I hope you'll reconsider."

The group stood around and made small talk for a bit longer, well mostly it was Pavel and the two higher-ranking men; Boris was relegated to sitting on the chair for a bit before another glare from the director sent him scrambling.

Several more minutes passed. Hearing commotion in the center, the small group turned to see everyone was counting down. Twenty seconds until it would be 1947. Taking a long draught from his glass, Pavel thought; it'd be a new year, new opportunities, and maybe, just maybe they'd get some clues about that damned American program.

Ten seconds.

Holding his hand to his neck, he felt the rings around his neck. Three years now, he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it.

Five: Maybe he should get a pet.

Four: A good loyal dog, that'd be nice.

Three: He though about getting a cat maybe.

Two: Cats didn't need too much.

One. "Ah, too much effort." He thought, banishing his pet related thoughts.

Raucous cheering erupted from the center, men raised their glasses in a toast to the new year. Couples embraced each other. Pavel saw Boris and a woman smashing their faces together.

Grunting, Pavel drained the contents of his drink as he stood alone.

January 1st, 1947

The ride back had been hectic, as inebriated people we slowly being dropped off at their apartments and tenements. Soon it was just Pavel and Boris in the car, who was quietly slumped against the seat: their driver grumpily looking ahead, wanting to get his night over with. Pavel was enjoying the silence. Soon they were at his place. Opening the door he heard a snort as Boris woke up.

"Uh..You leaving my friend?"

"Yes Boris, I'm going to sleep. Good night." Pavel said in a slow tone, he'd found that was best way to get information to Boris whenever he'd have too much to drink.

"Mmkay…Hey Pavel? Why'd you stay? I know you don't like working with me. What's keeping you here? GRU agents do fairly well for themselves, from what I hear."

"Believe me Boris, it's no picnic, but I'd rather work with you than with than with Sedlak. God… I'd rather lose my good leg rather than work with that man."

"Why? Sedlak seems like an alright guy. "

"I don't know Boris!" Pavel snapped "Why don't you tell me why the Director hates you?"

Boris's eyes sharpened at that question, he never talked about the sub-director and Pavel knew it.

"No reason at all" he said mumbling a line he rehearsed a thousand times before, "Maybe I need to work harder?"

"Right, sure. Good night, Boris." Pavel responded with an air of finality as he stepped out of the car. Ascending the stairs as quickly as he could, he reached his apartment and quickly walked in. Striping off his jacket, he slung it over his shoulder as he walked into the restroom and splashed some water on his face. Bracing himself against the sink with his arms, he stared into the mirror, looking at his now dripping face. Staring, he clenched his hands against the cool metal sides of the sink as he thought of Sedlak and his offer, he breathing increasing rapidly as he felt his bottled anger boil.

"Fucker." He started to mutter, with a slowly rising voice "That fucker, thinks a goddamn JOB offer will fix shit. Fuck him…Gah!...Fuck! Should have decked him." he swore as he grabbed a bare bar of soap "Shouldn't have given a shit that Romanov was there!" He finished as he hurled the soap out of the bathroom and head a loud thud as it slammed against the wall on the far side of the hallway. Giving a loud groan, he slumped against the side of his tub and sank to the floor, balling his fists.

Sitting for what felt like a small eternity, with nothing but his thoughts, Pavel absentmindedly reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver flask. Shaking it, he was pleased to hear most of its contents were there. Grunting, he opened the top and took a long draught.

Twenty minutes later, he was sprawled out, asleep on the bathroom floor. His empty flask resting next to his coat, practically touching the small string of medals. A gold star hazily reflected off the fogged metal of the flask.

February 20th, 1947

Dr. Werner Von Braun watched with baited breath as the rocket's final assembly was placed on the launch pad. He was still amazed, just two years ago he'd been coordinating with the members of his research and engineering staff about how they were going to try and cross the Fatherland to try and surrender to the Americans. Now here he was working on rockets for them. While the facility they had to live on was relatively nice, they all were still under virtual house arrest, although from what he had heard about what had happened to those who surrendered to the Soviets, he'd gladly take the house arrest.

The men on the launch pad quickly finished their work and moved back to their jeeps. Scrambling away, the vehicles drove out of the blast range. A loud countdown soon began, echoing across the empty desert.

Five…Four…Three…Two…One!

A fiery red blast extended out from beneath the rocket as it shot upwards, slightly arching to the south. As it rose, a long contrail of smoke extended out of the back as it soon disappeared over the horizon. A small radio control unit kept track of the progress of the rocket, which would hopefully soon deliver its cargo of fruit flies into the upper atmosphere. They'd been launching various sounding rockets the past couple of months; hopefully the calibrations from those would enable this one to reach its goal.

Several minutes passed as everyone gathered around the monitoring equipment, loud beeping and low murmuring echoed over the small room. Finally technician removed his head set and look at Werner with a smile.

"Launch was a success doctor; the payload reached its destination height."

A loud cheer echoed across the observation bunker. Another successful launch, they'd continue to work with the V-2 modified sounding rockets for a while longer, but soon the new Hermes project would start their launches.

Cheerfully, he walked out of the bunker and looked over the launch site. A few jeeps were milling around still, as well as a couple of black cars. He assumed they belonged to several of the civilian handlers assigned to the base. The FBI liked to keep close tabs on his people. He saw one figure, a man in a black suit, and matching sunglasses and fedora scribble some notes on a piece of paper before getting into a car and driving off.

Shrugging, the doctor went back to the bunker, they still had a lot of work to do…

Driving off the White Sands Base, Samuel Marcus was pleased with what he'd seen. Apparently that rocket Nazi and his gang knew their stuff. He'd observed the past three launches and noted their success.

It had been nearly two years since he's been given the task of scouting out some of the biggest science projects and assemblies of eggheads to get an inventory and sense of progress on the latest achievements the nation was trying to accomplish. White Sands was his latest stop and he noticed that the further west he'd gone, the more promising the studies had been. But this could easily be the most important of the projects yet. If they could get into space, put weapons and spaceships up there, they could defend the earth.

"Much better than those studies they're doing on those Negros in Tuskegee." he thought with a shudder. No one deserved the siff.

Still, between the rockets and some of the newer radar testing facilities he'd seen, the results were looking promising. His next stop was China Lake and the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. This assignment had definitely been a lot more fun than he'd previously thought, and his supervisor kept hinting he might get a new assignment to an interesting location if he performed well enough…

February 3rd, 1947

Don was going through the mess hall getting his lunch for the day. Things had been quiet at Camp Roosevelt for a while. Funding was still trickling in, so the expansion was slow going, though they'd now started to bring in the exploratory drills that would find some of the deeper pockets of natural gas.

They hadn't had any new faces come through for a while, with the stalled out talks, the Chiefs had been reluctant to send more men to the base, and the Brits were dealing with India and some of their other colonies and so wanted as many hands on deck as possible until the hand off later that year. Heliopolis had been making slow, but steady progress. They'd cleared out all of the rubble a while ago and were now going over the entire castle with a fine tooth comb. It turned out there were a lot of hidden nooks and crannies in the place. They'd already uncovered several well hidden rooms, and now they were searching high and low trying to find any cupboards or doors that had been missed on the initial sweeps.

Grabbing his now loaded lunch tray, he began to walk to his usual seat in the hall, they still hadn't put in an officers mess and given the budget, he wouldn't feel right if they had. However, as he neared his usual table, he looked to his right; he saw Sergeant Shepard and his crew sitting at one of the end tables, murmuring among themselves. No one else sat with them, despite the crowded conditions of the mess. He shook his head slightly, they'd been at the base for several months now, and apart from a couple nasty incidents with the men's lockers being ransacked and some unflattering messages painted in oil on their sheets, things hadn't been as bad as he'd predicted, but there still was an air of tension on the base.

Resolved, he stepped past his usual table and approached the men, who looked up and began to snap up and salute.

"I'm not here on any formality, I'm just looking for a place to sit men, as you were." he said as he set hit tray down and sat with the tankers. In the back he heard the previously rancorous talk and laughter turn to low murmuring. He could feel sets of eyes burrow into his back. Ignoring it as best as he could, he started munching on some mashed potatoes and looked to the crew.

"So, where are you all from?" he asked, trying to break the ice.

"We're from all parts of the South, sir." Shepard responded, taking a swig of water from a canteen and gesturing to his men: "Morehouse here, is from Jacksonville, star QB for his high school team. Monroe is from Macon, though he's more at home in the backwoods. Then you have Pete, he's from Nashville." He finished as he set down the canteen.

"And how about you?"

"Galveston."

"Oh, no way. You're a Texas boy, too?" Don asked perking up.

"Yes sir, born and raised, I never got the proper accent though, the priests and nuns were very particular about how we spoke at school."

"Priests and nuns?"

"Yeah, my father made some money running booze to the island during Prohibition, and was smart enough to know when to get out. He invested in a couple of small businesses and opened a store. The first thing he did was set aside enough money to send my sisters and I to school…He was a tad peeved when he found out I enlisted."

"Oh?"

"I was going to Hampton University when the war broke out, the day after the Japs attacked, I went down to the nearest office and enlisted. You have to understand, my father is a patriot, like anyone else, it was just that he didn't like the idea that I was, and I'm quoting the man, 'tossing away my education to go follow the Army and peel potatoes.'"

"Ooo, ouch." Hammond said as he let his fork sink into his mash.

"Yeah, I was fortunate, I managed to get to basic fairly quickly. Once I was nearly finished, some higher up came by; they were looking for Negro men with higher education experience to fill some of the NCO slots for experimental combat units. I volunteered without a second thought. Sent a picture to my father with my tank and crew a while later. My mother says he keeps it on the mantle." He said cracking a smile.

Taking a knife and cutting the mystery meat on his tray, Hammond continued, his eyes down. "So how'd you all end up here on an alien world? I remember Truman mentioned he wanted to get a unit here experimentally, but I didn't ask how they went about it."

"Ah, well, we got back stateside and were assigned back to Fort Hood. With the demobilizations, our unit was slated to be decommissioned. Towards the end of the year, we were visited by a couple of officers, they wanted to ask us some questions. Now I knew we hadn't ruffled any feathers, but we were still nervous. They split us up and interviewed us for a couple hours, then said they'd be in touch. We didn't hear back for a couple weeks, but then we were told to see our colonel." He stopped briefly to scoop up some peas; holding them in a spoon, he continued, "We were in his office when he handed us all folders, he explained that the interviews had been a part of a process, the military was screening for tank crews to join a new, classified program, and, more importantly, they were looking for a colored crew. We'd be away from home, with no guarantee of safety, but we'd be doing a service for our nation. Apparently four other crews had turned down the offer before us, and it was already a fairly short list." He said eating the peas, one of the crew, Morehouse, stepped in, counting off on his fingers.

"Let's see, they wanted a crew that: had demonstrated competence under fire, had secured at least two vehicle kills, had been active in Europe since at least nineteen forty four, had at least one member who had secured a medal, and finally, no one could have any ties to any criminal or disruptive activity." he finished with a heavy emphasis on the last two words.

"'Disruptive activity?'" Hammond asked raising an eyebrow.

"It means none of us can have known anyone trying to get more rights for our people back home ... sir." Pete chimed in, hastily adding the last part.

Chewing his food, Don swallowed and looked at the group. Grimacing, he continued "So why'd you all accept?"

"Well, it wasn't easy, let me say. Look at it from our perspective, the military wants you for an ultra-classified group that doesn't officially exist, no promises of survival and we'd be buried under layers and layers of security. Honestly, a lot of us though the Army was going to try and use us as guinea pigs or send us on a suicide mission."

"So what changed your mind?"

"Call it a hunch, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it didn't make sense for the Army to want to do that for a tank crew, if they wanted lab rats or sacrificial lambs they'd be using infantry, not tanks and if for some reason they wanted a crew to do that, they'd probably use one of the more expendable, inexperienced crews. There was the off-chance it was some experimental tank that they wanted seasoned guys to test, but that seemed unlikely enough to discard. I talked it over with the boys, and after a few days, we agreed. Next thing we knew we were on a train to New York, filling out binders of paperwork."

"So what have you thought so far?"

Grinning, Shepard took a drink of coffee "So far? It's been worth it."

March 1st, 1947

The gate was active and the men were milling around the gate room. Today was the first day of the expedition to newly designated ES-4, another new site they'd discovered by cold dialing (it had been decided that, with the exception of ES-2, non-cartouche worlds discovered by cold dialing would be preferentially designated with lower numbers, pushing the cartouche worlds back by one for each world cold-dialed. The forested ES-4 was now designated ES-5, and so on up the chain.) Simmons (much to his annoyance), had gone through and confirmed the world was safe, though given that the area was a huge desert, it was quite hot.

Simmons was busy removing the heavy diving gear, dripping buckets of sweat as he chugged water from a canteen. In the gate room, several Bren carriers and a couple trucks were assembling. This mission would be in the hands of the Brits; it had turned out most of the soldiers that had come over had served in North Africa. Hammond decided that they should lead off on the initial surveys before a larger group would come through.

Don walked over to the British liaison, Lieutenant Powell. Like the rest of the soldiers, he was decked out in a khaki battle dress. Don nodded. "Are your men ready?"

Slinging a Lee Enfield over his shoulder, Powell smiled "Yes! We've been tinkering with the Brens, mostly reinforcing their radiators, and we've made sure to grab lots of jerry cans of water and petrol."

"Think you'll find anything?"

"Who knows? When I was in Tunisia I saw strange things that lived in lands that seemed inhospitable, beforehand, I was in the Transjordan and saw even stranger things. One might think the desert has nothing, but really, it's a matter of careful observation.

Hopping into one of squat vehicles, Powell shouted "Alright boys! Let's get to it!"

March 7th, 1947

The gate roared to life as the British expedition arrived back home right on schedule; the Brens rolled through first, their metal sides seemed scoured from sandblasts and the beds had a small layer of sand on the bottom. The men seemed in high spirits though, laughing and joking. It seemed like their time in the desert hadn't made them worse for wear.

The trucks came through next, the first one was normal, minus the sand blasting, then the second one came through.

Strapped to the hood was the strangest creature Don had ever seen. It was roughly the same size as a horse, and covered with a thick layer of short curled brown hair. Four long lanky legs connected to a set of hooves that were flat and widely spread, creating an almost webbed look. Its torso was a crude oval shape. The back was flat, but its sides extended outwards in two large bulges. The head looked like a mix of a camel and an anteater, a strange proboscis-like snout was in place of a mouth. The right side of its head was covered in red, with a large circular hole caked in blood.

Leaning out of the truck, Powell grinned smugly.

"I told you, all a matter of careful observation!"

March 12th, 1947

The soldiers were milling around the gate room once more. They'd spent another couple days surveying ES-4, and so far, came up blank. Hope for petroleum deposits or other valuable minerals had been dashed as results so far turned up negative. They brought through a couple scout planes but they hadn't seen anything apart from the desert, though if some Earth deserts were anything to go by, they might just be stuck in the middle of a very inhospitable part of a planet. This would be Don's third time going back, and they still had another three weeks of surveys planned before they'd move onto ES-5.

They had delayed the departure for a few minutes though. The gate was open from Earth, a new supply shipment had been sent through, and a radio broadcast was being piped into the area.

"The very existence of the Greek state is today threatened by the terrorist activities of several thousand armed men, led by Communists, who defy the government's authority at a number of points, particularly along the northern boundaries." The voice of Truman echoed through the base's loudspeaker: Apparently the Doctor had heard that the president was giving a speech to Congress and decided to relay the broadcast to Camp Roosevelt.

"No government is perfect. One of the chief virtues of a democracy, however, is that its defects are always visible and under democratic processes can be pointed out and corrected. The Government of Greece is not perfect. Nevertheless it represents eighty-five per cent of the members of the Greek Parliament who were chosen in an election last year…"

Ernest listen to the broadcast in the base in New York, they kept the gate open to Camp Roosevelt to let them listen to it as well. The past few months had left Ernest with little time to be kept abreast of world events, but it seemed like things were starting to drum up once more.

He hoped that this new course of events wouldn't affect the program.

"One of the primary objectives of the foreign policy of the United States is the creation of conditions in which we and other nations will be able to work out a way of life free from coercion. This was a fundamental issue in the war with Germany and Japan. Our victory was won over countries which sought to impose their will, and their way of life, upon other nations…"

Attlee and his fellow ministers were listening with rapt attention to Truman's speech. Given the precarious state of the Isle's finances recently, combine with the chaos of the shift in India, they sadly hadn't had the resources to help the Greeks or the Turks like they had in the past. They'd done their best after the war, but sadly it hadn't been much.

Hopefully the Yanks could pull through.

"Should we fail to aid Greece and Turkey in this fateful hour, the effect will be far reaching to the West as well as to the East. We must take immediate and resolute action. I therefore ask the Congress to provide authority for assistance to Greece and Turkey in the amount of $400,000,000 for the period ending June 30, 1948. In requesting these funds, I have taken into consideration the maximum amount of relief assistance which would be furnished to Greece out of the $350,000,000 which I recently requested that the Congress authorize for the prevention of starvation and suffering in countries devastated by the war."

Pavel and Boris sat around the radio, rapidly scribbling notes as the American president spoke. They were one of several sets of analysts trying to divine what the President was trying to do. They were fortunate in that regard, neither of the two had the best grasp on the English language. The fact they had to wake up at an ungodly hour to listen in didn't help much either.

"Well it looks like the Americans don't like the common people trying to rise up, eh comrade?" Boris asked sarcastically.

Rolling his eyes, Pavel looked down at his notes and said in a flat tone "Damn capitalists trying to interfere. We good Communists though, we're just giving the people moral support."

The two laughed as the American finished the speech.

"The seeds of totalitarian regimes are nurtured by misery and want. They spread and grow in the evil soil of poverty and strife. They reach their full growth when the hope of a people for a better life has died. We must keep that hope alive.

"The free peoples of the world look to us for support in maintaining their freedoms.

"If we falter in our leadership, we may endanger the peace of the world - and we shall surely endanger the welfare of our own nation.

Great responsibilities have been placed upon us by the swift movement of events…"


	13. Chapter 10, Part 2: Close Encounter

Chapter 10, Part Two.

April 3rd, 1947

It was finally time to put ES-4 behind them and start exploring ES-5 (much to the relief of the heat weary soldiers).

One of the squads was gearing up for their next mission. Hammond handed out the new earpieces they'd been issued, one of the first yields from Heliopolis. They'd cleared out another small room in the castle, virtually a closet, and found a device in it with pictographs that appeared to be an instruction manual. The pictographs depicted the device, a small gray platform with a small red crystal button on it, being used by a humanoid figure. When the button was pressed, according to the pictographs, the device would emit a flash of light, and a small device, rectangular, with a tiny protuberance near the end on one of the long, wide faces of the rectangle, would appear. The device was then inserted into the ear, with the protuberance being the actual earpiece, and, if the pictographs were correct, in only a matter of words, the device could build up an automatic, two-way translation program between any two languages.

They'd also proven to be a useful two-way radio, with no discernible limit to distance, at least on planetary scales; Hammond had personally spoken to Professor Langford via the devices through the gate while Langford was in Nevada and the gate was still located on the East coast. A number of the devices had been sent back to Earth for study, mainly because if the technologies that allowed for such a small electronic device could be reverse-engineered, electronic systems could be reduced in size significantly. A radio that could actually be concealed in the palm of the hand, not to mention the benefits to other technologies ... the translator devices were apparently being given top priority in research on Earth. If the scuttlebutt was accurate, a couple of the devices were going to be used to provide secure lines of communication between the White House, 10 Downing Street, and other locations of importance to the SGI.

Hammond felt the familiar rush of coolness as he and his squad emerged from the gate on the new world they were assigned to explore. ES-5 was different insofar that rather than an empty field like on ES-3 or a large desert like ES-4, ES-5 was located in a small meadow, with a thick tree line surrounding the clearing. The trees were tightly linked together, which made vehicular transportation difficult, even the small Bren Carriers the British had brought over would have a difficult time moving through. It was therefore decided to send one squad through to participate in an initial survey of the world. One of the two new halftracks was coming with the squad though, both as a transport for some basic supplies and to provide a measure of security at the gate with its quad machine gun. While it was principally designed to take down aircraft, it would also play havoc with infantry.

Stepping down the small stone platform the gate had been erected upon; he heard the heavy drone of the halftrack's engine as it began to emerge from the gate. Stepping to the side, he watched as the heavy vehicle rolled down the small flight of stairs and settled in the meadow below, its driver and gunner casually scanning the tree line. The rest of 1st squad quickly emerged from the gate as well, and quickly fell into place. Circling up, Hammond began to bark orders:

"All right, listen up. We've been given a couple of days to scout out this place. We'll head straight for the tree line and go in for a bit before we circle around and make sure everything is on the up and up. We'll rendezvous here later today and establish a base camp. We'll unload the halftrack after we've made sure this immediate area is secure." Opening up a small disk in his hand, Hammond circled in the spot while looking intently at his palm; satisfied, he closed the lid. "Good news, this world has strong magnetic poles, our compasses work, so that'll help us navigate through this forest. Johnson and Turlington will stay with the track and help our fine driver and gunner, while the rest of us head out. Any questions?" The men shook their heads. "Alright, well, then, let's go!"

Unslinging his Thompson, Hammond took the lead, his remaining men falling in behind him as they made their way to the tree line. Behind him, the four men remaining at the gate quickly gathered around and started to light up some cigarettes, before settling in to their guard.

As they reached the tree line, Hammond and his men weaved their ways through the forest. While the trees were thick and closely packed together, there was still enough space for a man to move through, though in general, only one person could fit through a gap at a time. Fortunately, there were many twisted and gnarled paths that allowed the squad to maintain a rough sight-line of each other. Thick creepers hung from the trees, extending dozens of feet to the ground below, the dark canopy of leaves cutting off most of the sunlight to the lower levels of the forest. Dead leaves and fallen sticks littered the earthen floor below and made it difficult for the squad to move silently, every other second, a loud snap could be heard as a twig broke under foot. Don frowned, if they found any contacts, it would be difficult to sneak up on them.

About an hour went by as the squad weaved its way through the forest, each man moving slowly and deliberately, though after a while, a sense of calm and complacency set in. They were still alert, but were becoming more accustomed to their surroundings.

"Hey, Simmons!" Hammond heard one of the soldiers close by say over his shoulder. Donowitz, that was his name. "I bet you a pack of smokes we finally find us some genuine aliens on this place!"

"We already did, remember those weird camel things we found on ES-4? Don't those count?"

"No, I mean the real deal, like the kind you read about in the magazines. The ones with the beautiful women, and the ray guns, and their ships that can carry them through the stars!"

Simmons chuckled. "You really think we'll find something like that on this place? Have you seen the forest here? I don't think even the Amazon runs this thick, if there's aliens here, I betcha they're as primitive as the savages in the woods back home."

"So you're taking the bet, then?"

"Sure, why not, easiest pack of smokes I've made."

"Ha, joke's on you, everyone knows from the stories that the aliens tend to be more in harmony with nature and all that shit. Maybe they're so advanced, they don't need to cut down so many trees, or maybe this is a colony, or maybe even they could be invisible and watching us now. Come on Simmons, all these trees and wildlife, and you're going to tell me there's nothing special here?"

"Alright, can it you two." Hammond said turning his head slightly to the side. "We've got a lot of forest to cover, and I think I speak for everyone when I say we don't want another three hour argument about aliens." Turning around and walking backwards, he spoke up. "Though I would like to remind you gentlemen that the pot is now up to twelve packs of cigarettes, fifty dollars, four candy bars, and a lovely poster of Rita Hayworth. All for the first man to make contact with an alien civilization, so keep your traps shut, and your eyes and ears wide open." he finished as he turned and almost smacked into a tree. Awkwardly dodging to the side, he managed to keep walking, and preserve his dignity in front of his squad.

They walked for another couple of hours, by then they had begun to move in a clockwise pattern from their entrance into the forest and were slowly moving through the brush. Periodically the group checked their compasses and made sure they could remember the alignment of the meadow clearing to their position. Upon hearing the sound of running water, the squad quickened up its pace, and found themselves in a small clearing. A small rock outcropping protruded from the north end of the clearing and extended deeper into the forest, a stream flowed from the top of the rock and made a little waterfall that continued the stream towards the western edge. The meadow with the Stargate was to the south, and the men had come from the east. Checking the compass alignment once more, Hammond called for a break.

"Alright boys, take ten, smoke them if you've got them, don't drink from the stream, and remember, the rock is pointing towards the gate."

As the men settled in, Don found a small rock near the waterfall, by the edge of the forest and sat down. So far the patrol had been going well, no incidents, no twisted ankles, no supply shortages, no one trying to drink from a strange cactus (apparently the ES-4 cacti had powerful hallucinogens in their water, as Simmons and two others had discovered when they tried the water on a bet. Since then the new rule was "don't sample the local produce until it had been tested"). While Donowitz was optimistic, Hammond doubted they'd find any aliens here. Oh sure they'd likely find lots of wildlife, enough to keep the base's biologists busy for a long while, but no sentient alien species. Any race would likely have their Stargate secure, and the fact they met no one meant that the pot would likely grow larger. Ironically, at that moment, he heard rustling in the bushes that would shatter that preconception.

Looking up, Hammond stood and moved to the right, behind a larger rock formation next to his small sitting stone. Now in partial cover, he whispered harshly into his earpiece, "Contact, everyone shut up!" he ordered, as he quickly heard his men silence themselves as they tried to find cover in the open clearing. Listening intently, he heard what he thought were more twigs and leaves snapping and moving underfoot of something, and it sounded as though it was getting closer. After several moments, the sound stopped. He crouched and held his Thompson firmly in his grasp and waited.

Second trickled past and nothing happened. No animal darted out, no predatory sounds were made, no continuation of the movement. Just silence. Taking a small mirror, he held it out from the side of his cover and looked at the reflection; seeing nothing in the woods ahead. He scanned the mirror back and forth several times and saw nothing. Sighing, he put the mirror back in his pocket, maybe his imagination was…

At that moment, the rock above his head exploded with a massive bolt of energy, leaving a faint tinge of ozone hanging in the air.

"Shit! Incoming!" he barked into the earpiece, though judging by the wild fire from his men, they'd seen it. Grasping the mirror once more, he attempted to see what was happening in the forest. He saw nothing once more as the mirror scanned the tree line, but more energy bolts impacted his cover. Just as he was about to withdraw closer back to his men, he saw it.

Leaning close by a tree, so that the shadow covered it and its black armor, Hammond saw a creature that strongly resembled the Eagle warrior they had seen in the video, they had similar armor styling, a similar stance, and were wielding a staff. However, there were two distinct differences, this creature's armor was almost entirely night black, which concealed nicely within the shadows, and its metal head, with its four narrow, angry red eye slits, looked like a scorpion, brought to life on a man's body.

The scorpion warrior was busy firing on the men further down the clearing, its staff held towards its hip, a bolt shooting out every couple of seconds. It was paying little attention to Hammond. Taking the opportunity, Don leaned out of cover and raised his Thompson. Holding it as steady as he could, he squeezed the trigger several times, sending out bursts of fire at the warrior. He grinned slightly as he saw the warrior stumble back as several bright sparks played across his armor, but it quickly vanished as it righted itself and leveled its staff at Hammond's position. He ducked back in just in the nick of time; the rock near his head shattered as several bolts slammed into it.

Grunting, he began to bark orders into his radio. "Alright, listen up, we have no clue how big of a force we're fighting, and our weapons seem to be of limited use, at least our SMGs. Everyone, group up into teams of three and start falling back to the gate! Give each other covering fire!" Reaching to his vest, he pulled off a grenade. Yanking out the pin, he depressed the lever and threw it as hard as he could, right in the direction of the scorpion warrior. He was rewarded with the sight of the thing looking down as the pineapple shaped piece of metal landed at its feet.

The explosion knocked it back several feet and sent it slamming into a tree. Falling forward, it laid prone, unmoving.

"So they're not invincible! Perfect!" The firing slaked for a brief moment following the warrior's death. Taking that opportunity, Hammond broke into a full sprint back towards his men. "Covering fire!" he ordered as he ran. He saw several more bolts whiz pass him as he neared he soldiers, many of whom now took up positions in the tree line. They traded fire with their unseen foe.

As he neared the forest, he saw one bolt strike a tree branch, sending a hail of splinters into the face of a young soldier, who fell backwards, clutching his face and screaming. Reaching the trees, Hammond wheeled around the tree and knelt by the soldier. The boy kept screaming as he tried to move his hands away from his face, until finally, the squad's medic joined them. Nodding at Hammond, he moved the boy's hands, and inspected him. Several long gashes cut deep, angry crisscross across his face, and his helmet had stopped the wooded shrapnel from covering his entire head. His eyes were shut, but blood trickled out from behind his eyelids, several large wood shards protruded. All the while, the boy continued to let out an unearthly scream.

"We've gotta keep moving!" He said, looking as the medic, who was attempting to clean some of the boy's face.

"I wouldn't recommend it sir, he's gonna lose a lot of blood if we move him and…"

"Damn it, I know, but we need to fall back, there's no telling how many more of those thing are out there."

Exhaling heavily, the medic looked down and nodded. "Give me two seconds, then start having the men fall back."

"Alright people, I hope you found your battle buddies, first group start moving back now, second group, follow behind them after 20 seconds, third and fourth group will depart together!" As he ordered the men, he emptied another clip in the direction of the warriors, his gun might not have been as effective as he'd have liked, but they could still put pressure on the scorpions and stop their advance.

After a minute, the fire had significantly reduced on his end as the first two groups made their departure. Slinging his Thompson and pulling out a service revolver, he looked at the medic, who had just finished wrapping the boy's head in gauze wrap, the white cloth already stained red. Nodding, they both put a shoulder under the boy's armpits and began to move as quickly as they could.

As they proceeded to go deeper and deeper into the woods back towards the gate, the enemy's fire significantly reduced, though Hammond attributed that to their growing distance. It had taken them almost an hour to get this deep into the woods, but that was with a brisk march; with everyone moving as fast as they could, sprinting in small bursts, and running when they could, he expected the first group would arrive at the gate in about twenty minutes, while the third and fourth groups would get there almost ten minutes later…

Simmons was running as fast as he feet could carry him, he and the other two men of the first group were trying to make sure the gate could be secured in time for the remaining groups. Leaping over a fallen tree, he stumbled for several seconds before regaining his balance and resuming the sprint.

"God, real aliens!" he thought. They'd all seen footage of the Eagle warrior, but he never expected they'd encounter them or their ilk in the field. He'd been holding out hope for a peaceful encounter with aliens, one with a lot less shooting. That hope had been thoroughly, brutally dashed, though. Gripping his Garand tighter, he ducked under some branches before running headlong into some creepers. Slowing down as the heavy vines draped over his body, he unsheathed his knife and began to furiously slice at the green cables holding him. After about thirty seconds, he was through, though winded and panting heavily. Not wanting to deal with that again, he mounted his knife on the bayonet nub on his rifle and began to walk through a smaller series of creepers, easily slicing through them. It was only then he realized he was alone.

"Kowalski?! O'Brien!" He yelled before remembering his earpiece. "Where are you guys?" he asked.

"Don't know. I got caught up in some vines, I'm still heading in the right direction though."

"Same here, I'm knee deep in some bramble, but still going the right way."

"Okay!" He said as he started walking forward. "Just be careful, we don't have a ton of support, so if you see anyth-" he stopped as he saw a dark figure emerge from behind a tree, its red eyes locking with Simmons'. They both froze for several moments, before they both raised their weapons at each other. Unconsciously, Simmons leveled out his rifle and squeezed the trigger. He felt the familiar thud as the rifle's kick back hit against his shoulder blade. He was rewarded with the sight of the warrior's armor sparking as the bullet struck home. As it reeled back, Simmons squeezed off a quick series of three more shots, each slamming home and sending the warrior sprawling.

Shaking slightly, Simmons slowly advanced on the alien. Keeping his rifle leveled at it as he did. He breathing quickened as he got closer and closer until finally he was a scant couple feet from the creature. He saw red blood pouring from the wounds as the warrior attempted to move, but to no avail. After struggling for several more seconds, it went limp, its bright red eyes going dull. He stared. What was this thing? Silence fell on the woods.

"I heard gunshots! You guys okay" he heard O'Brien radio.

"Yeah…Yeah I'm fine, just found another Scorpion warrior. Good news…they bleed just like us."

"Holy shit, you bagged one Simmons?!"

"I saw the L.T. take one out with a grenade! Good to know our guns work on these things too."

"Yeah, listen, you guys try and converge on my location, I'll try and snag some its weapons, take' em back to base. We might be able to grab this dead one and see if they can cut it up and see how it wor…" a twig snapped behind Simmons as he spoke. Diving to the side instinctively, he saw a bolt cut through the air where he stood several breaths earlier and explode against the tree. Rolling, he saw a second warrior steadily advancing towards him, its stiff open.

"Ai'emain! Ai'emain krenol tar!" He heard the warrior yell at him in a strange language as it shot another bolt at his location. Ducking behind a tree Simmons poked his rifle out and squeezed a shot off, but it went wild. Several more bolts slammed into his tree, whittling away at it. Remembering the soldier from earlier, Simmons sprinted to another tree several feet away, just as the tree behind him exploded into a hail of slivers.

"Krenol me tar!" The warrior shouted again as it marched towards Simmons's tree, unloading more bolts of light. It was only several feet away now. Thinking frantically, Simmons took a deep breath and wheeled around the tree, leveling his rifle at the warrior. As he squeezed off another shot, the warrior rolled and he missed. Righting itself, it continued to surge forward with frightening speed. Simmons managed to snap off one more shot and saw it spark against the warrior's side, but it didn't slow his advance. He saw it raise its staff and attempt to bring it down on him. The hilt contained a wicked looking pointed edge, seemingly meant for stabbing. Ducking to the side, he felt the staff whiz above his head, as the Scorpion attempted to smack him with the end that shot energy.

"KEK TAR!" it bellowed as it swung once more at Simmons. Raising his rifle, he roughly parried the blow and swiped his knife to the side along the warrior's armor, only to see a shower of sparks as it clanked off the chainmail. Parrying several more blows, Simmons tried to aim his rifle at the creature to squeeze off a shot, but the thing was skilled with its staff and wouldn't relent. Blow after blow was rained at Simmons, each he managed to duck or parry. The wood of his rifle was chipping away as it slowly felt heavier and heavier in his arms. Finally, the Scorpion raised his staff above his head, and brought it down on Simmons, who managed to elevate his gun in just enough time to catch the blow. The momentum sent him sprawling on the ground.

Standing in triumph over Simmons, the alien raised its staff one more, bellowing in its language, "TAL!" Just as it was prepared to bring the point down on Simmons, he brought his rifle to bear. The warrior's chain-mail was loose and Simmons saw a small patch of unarmored black skin, a fleshy X seemed to briefly show. Thrusting his rifle forward, he stabbed the creature, he shrieked as he twisted the bayonet further in its body. Red blood began pouring over his knife. Rising to his feet, Simmons's withdrew the blade and thrust it forward, right towards the creature's chest. As he did so the creature staggered towards him. The combine momentum of the two allowed the knife to plunge through the rings of metal and settle in the creature's chest.

Simmons then pulled the trigger on his rifle.

He saw a spray of blood exit the warriors back. At the same time his Garand ejected its clip. Tugging, he couldn't pry the rifle from the creature, who was slowly moving backwards. Shoving the rifle forward, it remained embedded in the warrior as it fell back, spread eagled. Simmons heard it cough on its blood as it lay dying.

"Lo…Lo mik'ta tar. Kek….kek en Terac Shri!" it wheezed, before its lights dimmed as well.

Breathing shallowly, Simmons took several moments to collect his thoughts as he surveyed the bodies. Both were leaking red blood as they lay motionless. If they were playing possum, they were doing a damn good job of it.

Just then, he heard some rustling in the bushes behind him, yanking out his pistol, he leveled it the source, only to see Kowalski and O'Brien emerge. They surveyed the scene and went wide eyed.

"Holy shit, Simmons, you weren't kidding, you got two of them!" Kowalski said as he walked over to the one warrior he'd shot several times. He nudged it with his boot before continuing "Damn!"

"What the hell do you think these things are?" O'Brien asked as he walked next to Simmons.

"Don't know, all I can tell is they bleed and die just like us. Now help me pick this one up, the science guys might want to cut one open." he said, gesturing to the one with the rifle sticking out of its chest. "Plus I'd prefer not to leave any hardware for them to find."

Nodding, the two moved over and started to lift the body. It leaked more blood as they held it at waist level.

"Shit … This thing weighs … a ton!" Kowalski said, straining.

"Its … its all that … goddamn … armor!" O'Brien replied with short breath.

"Okay, okay, drop it!" Simmons ordered, which the two men happily complied with. Looking over the corpse, Simmons stroked his chin.

"Maybe we can try and get some of the armor off and carry it the rest of the way. We probably don't need most of the chest pieces, so we can … Did you hear that?" He asked, snapping his head to the side.

In the tree line they all saw multiple figures moving, heavily armored boot steps echoed through the forest as they rapidly approached.

"Okay, new plan, grab the staffs and run like hell!" He yelled as he bent down and scooped up the staff. It was surprisingly light, he could easily carry it in his left hand while still brandishing his pistol in his right. O'Brien grabbed the other staff as the three of them ran into the forest back to the gate.

They dodged between trees and various pieces of cover as the footsteps followed them, behind him, he could hear the sharp hiss of the energy bolts as several flew wide. A few exploded some of the smaller trees nearby, but none of the shrapnel hit the soldiers. Approaching a thick bush of bramble, the men had no choice but to go through, the small thorns tearing at their flesh as they plowed through. It tangled their legs and their low hanging equipment. Simmons almost dropped his pistol, and after a second he heard O'Brien yell,

"Fuck, I dropped the staff!"

"Leave it!" Simmons ordered as they tried to make their way through. After an excruciating minute, they finally got clear and broke back into a full sprint. Behind him, he heard as the warriors effortlessly stomped through the bramble in their metal armor.

After almost ten minutes of sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him, the three finally broke through the tree line and emerged in the meadow. The soldiers back at the gate were standing attention. Waving his arm in the air with his pistol, Simmons started shouting.

"Start the gate, Johnson!" he yelled over the empty meadow. "Johnson! START THE GATE!" he screamed once more before remembering the earpiece again. Cursing himself, he radioed, "JOHNSON, START DIALING!" He saw the soldier scramble to the side and start the gate dialing sequence. After a tense couple more seconds, they finally reached the halftrack and the soldiers guarding it. Panting heavily, Simmons saw Johnson finishing up the sequence and watched the gate spring to life as Camp Roosevelt was dialed. Looking back, he saw the second group emerge from the woods.

His radio then crackled to life.

"Attention, this is Camp Roosevelt gate command, requesting clearance and identify confirmation."

"This is staff sergeant John Simmons attached to Alpha Squad, 37942607."

"Sergeant! It's good to hear from you guys, what's going on?" The operator asked, his voice now a lot more friendly.

"We're under attack, we're just waiting for the L.T. and a few others. We need the portcullis raised!"

"Okay, I need the authorization phrase."

Wracking his brains, Simmons took several moments to remember the precise words for the poem they had to memorize in case they had to get the portcullis raised. Finally remembering the exact phrases, he recited the passage: "Home they brought her warrior dead: She nor swooned, nor uttered cry: All her maidens, watching, said, She must weep or she will die."

"Sounds good, we're raising it now, and we're alerting base personnel now."

"Okay, keep people clear from the gate, these energy bolts seem to pack a wallop. We're going to stay put until the L.T. comes, but be prepared!"

The men waited several minutes, the gate behind them glowing blue, the small sound it made humming over the battlefield. Eventually, they saw movement towards the trees. Standing at attention, the men leveled their rifles at the commotion. After several seconds, they saw Hammond and the rest. The boy's bandages were now covered dark red, and he was slumping slightly to the side, but still running, the medic fully propped up against him. Finally the L.T was there too, helping prop the boy up with one shoulder and brandishing his revolver with the other. The other three soldiers were making a full sprint to the gate, Simmons saw Hammond gesturing the three to go forward. They saw him squeeze a couple of rounds towards the forests as he and the other two made their way, more slowly towards the gate. Energy bolts began to pour out from the forest.

The halftrack roared to life as it surged forward, racing across the meadow. Pulling to the side slightly, so the trio was out of the way, the gunner opened fire on the tree line, raking the area with dozens of rounds a second from the quad mounted machine guns. The bolts slackened after several seconds of continuous fire from the halftrack. The gunner continued the onslaught as the heavy vehicle pulled up behind the three men, shielding them from the return fire. However, then the energy-blasting aliens began to focus on the halftrack, as a hail of bolts rained on the vehicle. Simmons saw as one bolt strike the ammo box on one of the machine guns and watched as the resulting explosion tore across the back of the vehicle. The gunner was thrown to the side, his body dangling limply from the side, his arm a good distance away in the field. Miraculously, the halftrack kept moving, using its armor to keep the three men protected as they neared the gate. Meanwhile the soldiers near the gate went prone and began to pour fire onto the tree line.

Realizing they were leaving the coordinates available for all to see, Simmons, grabbed several cylinders from the satchel near the gate, and pulled the pins on the metal tubes. Dropping them in front of the gate, he watched as a thick smoke enveloped the platform and the ring. Jumping to the side, he watched as the trio finally managed to reach the gate.

"Sir," he said to Hammond, "I've radioed ahead, the way is clear!"

Nodding, Hammond spoke into his radio, "We're coming through!, we've got wounded!", and with that, the LT ran through the smoke towards the gate with the wounded soldier, followed shortly by the tattered halftrack, which somehow kept moving despite the explosion. Risking a look, Simmons saw that there were dozens of large holes in the armor where the bolts had struck. They'd eaten away at the layer of armor easily and were damn near close to the fuel tank.

As the track entered the smoke and slowly rose up the platform, Simmons yelled to the assembled soldiers.

"Alright the LT and the wounded are through, everyone else now!"

The ten remaining men at the site, all rose and scrambled towards the gate, as the bolt fire intensified. Simmons stood by the ring's edge and counted the number of times he heard the faint splashing sound people made when they entered the gate. He managed to make out through the smoke, several men running through the gate, with the last couple sprinting up the steps. Turning, he leveled his pistol at the tree line and emptied the clip. Just then the men reached the top and charged towards the gate. A bolt then cut through the smoke and struck one of the men in the back. Simmons smelt the faint tinge of ozone and burnt flesh as the soldier's body was flung forward through the gate. Swearing, Simmons ran through the portal as well.

After several seconds he emerged on the ramp at Roosevelt. Remembering the bolts, he continued down the ramp, the soldier's body lying there. As he reached the bottom, he saw several more bolts fly through and impact the far wall.

"That's everyone!" he heard a voice yell. A couple seconds passed before the gate shut down.

He heard a door open, and he saw the halftrack driver stumble out. The man was shaking in his boots, hardly standing. His hand clasped firmly against neck. The right side of his body was caked in blood. Simmons realized there was blood leaking out from beneath his hand. The man made a small sound before collapsing, his hand fell to the side, revealing a large jagged cut along his neck. Looking at the halftrack, he saw several large holes in the plating behind the driver's cabin. The explosion must have done more damage than he thought. He felt a rush as a pair of medics ran past him. Leaning against what was left of the track, he looked around.

The men were exhausted, many were leaning over and panting, most hadn't run like they had since basic. A lot of them were cut up from their run through the forest, Simmons looked down and saw that his battle dress' leggings were torn up and stained red from his run through the bramble. He looked over to the body of the soldier who'd been struck by the bolt. The medics had turned it over and he saw that it was Donowitz. Poor kid.

Sitting down on the concrete floor, he saw several MPs and a pair of men in white lab coats wheeling over a long metal case. Looking at the staff, he realized what it was for. As they opened it, he struggled to his feet and dropped it in. Nodding the group quickly sealed the case and wheeled it off to some other part of the base.

Grunting, Simmons looked back at Donowitz's body. At least they had recovered something…

Back in the forests of ES-5, a group of heavily armored warriors marched in formation, dragging a struggling figure behind them. The man was bound in chains and swearing angrily at them, but no matter how hard he struggled, their grip held firm. In the clearing was a larger gathering of warriors, in front of them was another armored figure, smaller than the others, but standing taller than the rest. Stepping forward, her helmet retracted, revealing a short woman, with dark hair cut in a tight bob and several loose strands of hair dangling in front of her forehead. Her almond shaped eyes closed as she took a deep breath. As much as she preferred the intimidating and concealing portions of her armor, Selket enjoyed the fresh air when she could, though she preferred the safety of the carefully filtrated air of her palace offered. Looking to the assembled Jaffa, her disembodied voice boomed.

"I see you have captured our quarry!"

Kneeling, the Jaffa all retracted their helmets and looked down. The lead figure spoke.

"Yes my lady, your Ashrak squads helped us subdue the target."

"Rise."

Rising, the First Prime looked at the assembled warriors and realized something; there were fewer than had been with them when they arrived. More than that, several of their bodies were on the ground, as well.

"My lady! Did this wretch claim the lives of my brothers, your loyal servants?"

"No. While we were engaged in our hunt, our rear guard was engaged by another group of interlopers. A group of heavily armed humans it would seem."

"Humans? Where where they from?"

"The soldiers didn't get a look at the Chappa'ai, the humans had the foresight to obscure the gate with smoke before they could see the coordinates."

A set of footsteps interrupted, Selket looked over to see the last of the bodies being dropped off. All in all this attack had cost her a dozen Jaffa. This last body had something sticking out of it. Walking over, she yanked it out. It was some kind of fusion of metal and wood, complete with a pointed front. Looking it over, she saw a small opening in the back. Sniffing it, it had a familiar scent of black powder. She knew, because she had experimented with such weapons many times, each time trying to improve the design. Alas, one could only do so much with explosively propelled kinetics. But there were other paths that followed the same principle ...

"Hm, a primitive tool." she dismissed it as she walked towards the chained figure. "But it is of no matter, you're why we are here. Ammit!"

The figured struggled again against the chains as he snarled at Selket, his eyes glowing for a brief moment as he snarled. He cursed at her, which resulted in a thin ribbon of golden energy washing over his head. He yelled in pain for several moments before slouching. His breathing intensified.

"Your lord Sobek is most displeased with you." She chided " Perhaps it was not a wise idea to try and sell secrets to Ba'al."

Straightening himself, Ammit looked her in the eyes. "Spare me, Selket, I am of more use to you alive, the knowledge I carry about Sobek could gain you worlds, more power and influence, all can be yours, if you just spare…" His pleading was cut off as the energy swept over him once more.

"Do not presume to try and buy my loyalty, worm. I have no need for more worlds or power; the lords already respect and fear me! ONE WORD AND MY ASHRAKS COULD KILL WHOMEVER I PLEASED!" she boomed as the device was held closer to Ammit, whose body began to spasm and convulse violently. "Each lord must humble themselves should they wish to use the service of my ashraks. Even the supreme Ra knows respect when requesting my services." She said as she advanced on the man "What use have I for worlds or ships, when I command all the darkness?" she whispered, loud enough it carried over Ammit's screams. Standing over him now, she lowered her voice again, slackening the device temporarily as Ammit continued to spasm "Consider yourself lucky, Sobek was more worried about keeping you silent. Had he requested, I would have happily taken you back to my palace and shown you how I deal with traitorous weaklings. The last traitor I got to…know ended up scattered across seven planets and four moons in six star systems. Alas, not today, only a quick death for you." she finished as she raised the hand ribbon once more and let the energy wave over Ammit, whose screams once again filled the clearing. After several minutes, Ammit stopped moving, only small twitches here and there, a large black mark was over his forehead, where the ribbon was held close.

Looking to her First Prime, Selket barked ordered, "We're done here, strip the bodies of anything useful, then burn them all, including Ammit."

"I will be done my lady…What should we do about the humans?"

"It is none of our concern, true we lost some of our warriors, but they were the rear guard, the young ones just out of training. We'll refill the ranks easily. As for this world," she said, her arm outstretched. "it is not our world, this is Ba'al's domain, let him worry about them if they ever pester him. We needn't concern ourselves with these petty affairs."

"As you wish my lady…"


	14. The Wham Episode

Chapter 11: The Wham Episode

It had been difficult informing the families of the fallen members of the team. Don had insisted on doing so himself. He'd been responsible for their safety. He'd lost men before, but the hardest part was that he couldn't even explain what they'd been doing this time. It was one thing to look a mother in the eye and tell her that her son had thrown himself on a grenade to save the squad, or that they'd been on patrol and were ambushed. All he could do here was assure them that the deaths of their loved ones hadn't been for nothing. It did little to ease the pain he'd seen in the eyes of the three families. Donowitz's family wouldn't even be receiving his body; it was at a lab somewhere being dissected to figure out how the alien weapon had killed him. As he recalled, the "official" story was that he'd been buried at sea.

It had been two weeks since the incident. Don had refused to take the 'First Encounter Pool,' as the betting pool to find an alien civilization had been called. A long informal discussion that had made its way around the mess hall had revised it to 'peaceful contact' being the defining condition for the pool.

In the meantime, things were busy on Earth. President Truman and Prime Minister Attlee had been informed of the incident and briefed fully via earpiece radio. The fact that the Stargate team had personally encountered hostile aliens that appeared to be eerily similar to the Eagle Warriors had led to speculation from a variety of factions; all regarding the nature and composition of the aliens. The main groups holding to the theory that the aliens were related to the Egyptian gods were combing over tomes and records to try and figure out which god associated with scorpions. Others were starting to ponder that there were a variety of aliens that used animal motifs from their worlds and their resemblance to human society was mere coincidence, this group also held that Ra may have been an entirely different being and his association with Earth merely being coincidental, some even going so far as to postulate that Ra was just a religious icon, and that perhaps an alien culture may have picked up the Egyptian mythology from Earth, or vice versa. Regardless, Don left the speculation to the academics and others at the base who had the benefit of their books and study. His main job was to figure out how to kill the damn things.

To that end, new procedures had been devised. The program was being given a number of bazookas, since explosives had been most effective. The limited effectiveness of the Thompsons had also been considered; the bases had recently received a shipment of over-pressurized .45 cartridges, which replaced the existing ammo load out for Thompson users. In addition, heavier duty side arms were being distributed, with Colt .45's that used the over-pressurized ammo being the popular pick, though Don and a few others had opted to pick heavy duty revolvers as their side arms of choice, predominantly the Smith and Wesson Model 27. The thing kicked like a mule, was more difficult to reload and only had six shots, but the hope was that its extra stopping power could punch through the alien armor. Since Don and a few others had experience with using revolvers, they had been the ones to propose the alternative. One thing everyone was still getting used to was that in Division Thirteen, so long as the ammo could be easily made and procured, you could use whatever gun was being made. This lead to a lot of extra discussions in the mess, men talking about which guns would work the best against the aliens. However, for the sake of pragmatism, Don issued the standing order that the soldiers could only take non-regulation equipment into the field so long as a minimum of two people either used the same weapon, or the same cartridges that others could use. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of soldiers going in with mismatched ammo.

A couple of veterans from the extended fronts in Germany had been talking about trying to acquire some German equipment for the bases to use, especially some of the heavier German vehicles, but Don and the rest of command put the kibosh on that. While there was still surplus equipment lying around, most German equipment used ammunition and other resources that wouldn't be compatible with their gear produced in America or Britain. More importantly, most of the facilities that had made the ammunition were in Germany and had either been obliterated in the bombing campaigns, or were shut down by the occupational authorities once Germany surrendered. So in order to make the equipment, in the short run anyways, they'd have to start up a small industry in Germany, and right now, no one wanted to give those bastards any work, least of all Don. While some of their tanks were indeed fearsome, he and others were loath to let any German equipment into their bases, there was just something wrong entertaining that thought. So for the moment the Germanophiles were shut down, all gear for the moment would be equipment that could be manufactured in America or the Commonwealth.

All gate travel, except that between Heliopolis, Earth, and Camp Roosevelt had been temporarily suspended until further notice. Camp Roosevelt had a continuous guard on the winch to drop the Portcullis in case of unscheduled connections, not to mention a more drastic increase in the number of guards present as well as serious increases in security precautions. While it was doubtful that the enemy had seen their destination, nothing was being left to chance.

The energy staff recovered from ES-5 was being studied quite intensively. They'd actually figured out how to fire it by accident. A lab tech had been swabbing it when he'd accidentally activated it and punched a hole in the wall with an energy burst. So far, with limited testing, they hadn't had much success in having it hit targets. They'd given it to an Army sniper, who had only managed to hit the target about half the time at best. Whether this was due to the weapon being inherently inaccurate or just being inaccurate in human hands remained to be seen. It had been determined that the weapon fired what appeared to be a condensed burst of plasma that could travel at incredible velocities, though as Simmons had demonstrated, it was possible to dodge the shot. The damage dealt by the staff was considerable, from what could be seen; a small notch built into the staff could regulate the flow of power. On normal settings, it was easily capable of killing a man should it strike him in the torso or head, the combination of the heat and energy release would be overwhelming, extremity shots would likely leave a target in shock, though the plasma's cauterizing effects could leave it survivable. On higher settings the blast could literally send a man flying several feet, though it significantly reduced the already rather low rate of fire the staff had and the bolt seemed to be more inaccurate. The "low" power settings were a bit misleading. The bolts were still deadly, and on the lower setting, the staff could fire at a pace comparable to a semi-automatic rifle, however, it seemed that the plasma would dissipate after twenty or thirty feet.

Don and many of the scientists pondered if it could one day be adapted into a more Earth-normal weapon design ... the idea of plasma rifles eventually being employed by US forces was being tossed around. Even with the system's apparent inherent inaccuracy, the devastating effect of the plasma, combined with its apparent limited anti-armor capabilities, made it an incredibly attractive target for development. Unfortunately, as things stood, the research team could only do so much. With only one sample, they were hesitant to attempt to take it apart because of the risk of damaging it irreparably, possibly ruining their chances of learning how to replicate the technology. Though a strong voice in the bases was pushing hard to do so anyways, wanting to learn the secrets, and as Don had heard mutterings, that they might meet the aliens again and get more samples.

He shuddered at that though, he'd rather not do anymore fighting if it could be helped, so many unknowns, it made the situation tense. Looking down at the files on his desk, he marked down several final notes, before signing the bottom of the four, each signature below the image of a man whom he had served with only two weeks prior:

PFC. Alexander Perkins- K.I.A

SPC. Bernard Montgomery- K.I.A

PFC. Leonard Bilstrom-W.I.A. Honorable Discharge; Placed on Permanent Disability

PFC. Richard Donowitz-K.I.A

Sighing, Don closed the folders, he had a sinking fear that before his time was up, he'd have to sign more of these folders.

June 20th, Upper Earth Orbit

After more than a year of travel, the little ship's sensors finally detected that it was nearing another orbital body and shut off the hyperdrive, remnants of scout programming instructing it a little too late to investigate. As the ship shot out of hyperspace, it fell into a course above a blue green world, in fact it far too close. The stresses on the little ship from spending a year in and out of hyper space, in addition to skimming the atmospheres of dozens of worlds had left it with many small fractures and imperfections. No Asgard ship had been designed like this before, and as a testbed, it lacked the refinement and strength of the more developed lines. The three clones in its bay had died long ago, their small frames emaciated, their skulls deformed, though the ship knew none of this. Its attempts to stabilize its path failed, and it found itself in a decaying orbit above the world.

Every two hours, a small klaxon would chime through the silent interior warning of an unstable reentry, and the ship would deftly move out into a temporary higher orbit. This world was different; unlike the others, its records indicated dozens of landing spots, but per the protocols in the old freighter database, it had to wait for a signal from one of the landing beacons. No signal came. In approximately seventeen days, it would crash. In the meantime, automatic systems began to project a sequence of holographic images into the lower atmosphere of the world it would soon die on, a sequence of abnormal shapes that would attract the attention of inhabitants who could then arrange for its recovery. Scanning the world, it placed itself above the northern hemisphere of the world and it began the long descent to its death.

The next day, the stresses on parts of the ship finally gave way. A sublight engine nacelle and two of the small rear wings of the ship broke off as it pulled itself back up. The loss of power was noted and the ship moved to a slightly higher orbit to compensate. The debris continued to follow the orbital path and eventually entered the atmosphere. The Trinium material was tough, but the tumbling pathway of reentry scorched it horribly and the friction began to peel away at the small pieces of debris. As they entered their final trajectory over a small peninsula and a small island, the nacelle exploded, scattering most of the wreckage into a small sound of water near the western coast of one of the northern continents.

June 22nd, 1947, near the Puget Sound, Washington

Samuel Marcus had been visiting the Tri-Cities and the Hanford site over the past couple of days, continuing the trend of his being the Initiative's go-to guy for assessing the utility of various projects in conjunction with the Initiative's goals, when he was awoken early in the morning with a confidential telegram sent from one of the bases. A request had been made from his higher-ups that he pay a visit to a couple of people who lived in the vicinity of Puget Sound, and to use "the secure link," code for one of the Heliopolis radio devices, to receive further details.

Putting the headset in and adjusting it to the designated channel, he sighed before speaking. "This is Samuel Marcus. What's the situation?"

"Captain Marcus, this is Truman."

"Mr. President, what can I do for you today?" Samuel asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"I understand that you're in Washington state at the moment, and that's why we're contacting you. There are a couple of civilians we need you to talk to. We received a report that they spotted some kind of flying object over Puget Sound. In light of recent events, we need to see if they're telling the truth. If they did spot some kind of alien craft, it's possible that it's linked to the encounter on ES-5. And, if they are telling the truth, it's imperative that you keep them from spreading the rumors too far and keeping them from causing a panic. One of them, a Harold Dahl, claims to have debris from the objects. We need those samples. You are authorized to do whatever you deem necessary to complete those goals."

After several more minutes of briefing, he checked out early, hopped into his new assigned car, a black Buick and drove nonstop first to Seattle, then a short ferry ride over to Vashon Island before finally driving over a small causeway to Maury Island. By the time he arrived, it was almost 11 in the morning; Samuel was glad that the military was picking up his gas bill. He'd spent a good hour or so asking around the island about the supposed sighting before finally he was directed to the household of one Harold A. Dahl. Yawning, Sam placed a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes to hide the dark circles and stepped out of the car. Checking his badge and revolver, he strolled up to the front door. Knocking, he patiently waited for several seconds before the door opened, revealing a middle aged man wearing a simple plaid shirt and blue jeans.

"Harold Dahl?" Samuel asked.

"Yes?" the man answered inquisitively.

"I'm investigating some strange sightings that recently occurred in this area, I heard you were the man to talk to."

Biting his lip, the man nodded. "You heard right, you here to talk about the debris?" he asked in a lowered voice.

"Yes. I was wondering if perhaps we could go for some coffee and some breakfast, it's been a long morning. Plus I don't want to alarm your family."

"Uh…Sure. No worries, one second." He said as he closed the door and heard some rattling noises on the other side. "I'll be back in a little bit honey." he heard a muffled voice say from behind the door as Harold reemerged, with a coat and a small box. "I know a nice little place to grab a bite to eat, you have a car?"

"Yep! Right over there." he gestured to the Buick.

Fifteen minutes later they were seated in a small diner on the island. After quickly downing a batch of coffee, Samuel cupped his hands and looked at Harold.

"Let's get down to business, Mr. Dahl. Yesterday several radar facilities detected four to five objects moving at high speed over this vicinity, before apparently disappearing from sight. From what reports were sent to me, you, your son, and a deckhand were out in the Sound when these objects appeared. Apparently one discharged some sort of … slag at you?"

Harold nervously chuckled. "Well, that's the rough long and short of it. I only told a few people yesterday, I'm surprised people have already heard about it."

Samuel waved his hand dismissively. "We have our sources, plus I'm fairly sure your deckhand didn't keep things to himself, either."

"Well…I suppose." he said unconvinced.

"Now, I'd like to hear from you. Word for word. What happened?"

"Well….Its like you said, we were out on the boat, when I saw these fireballs shooting across the sky, they were spinning real fast like, and one of them was trailing smoke. They shot over our location real quick like, and then one of the larger ones looked like it had some kind of explosion, because it sent this hail of hot debris down onto the boat. The metals … they were like nothing I've ever seen before, looked like steel, but were lighter, and somehow stronger. They rained on my boat and broke some of the windshield, some even hit my son in the arm. One got my dog in the head, poor thing hit the deck dead. Before I knew it, it was over, the debris that didn't land on my boat vanished, and I think the rest landed in the Sound."

Morris took notes for several more seconds after Arnold finished talking. Taking another long sip, he closed the book before looking up. "These metal fragments … Do you have them?"

"Well sure, the doc had to pull them out of my boy's arm, and I got all the ones I could off my boat. They're all here." he said offering the small box.

Samuel took it and opened it, inside were dozens of small metallic fragments, they'd clearly seen wear and tear, but still looked to be in relatively good condition. "What the hell?" Samuel thought as he gingerly picked up one of the pieces. Dahl was right, they looked like steel, but seemed too light, and he couldn't make heads or tails of it. His next step was to make sure Dahl kept quiet about this. "I'll have to take these." he said, bringing the box to his lap.

"Now hold on, can't you leave me a piece or…"

"No."

Raising his voice slightly, Dahl looked at Samuel "Now look here, I've been cooperative and I don't take kindly to being looked down on mister, I'd like to know something." He finished as he stood slightly, fortunately, their small booth toward the back was relatively inconspicuous and the waitress wouldn't be back for a minute or two.

"Mr. Dahl … sit down."

"I won't be talked down! What the hell is going on?!"

Standing, Samuel brushed back his suit revealing his badge for a brief moment, and his revolver for a longer moment. "Mr. Dahl, I'd like to impress upon you the seriousness of this situation. You've been cooperative so far, and I'd recommend you remain cooperative. That badge says I can do whatever I deem necessary to protect this nation, and this gun is how I enforce that badge's mandate. Now. Sit. Down." he said with a final authority, hoping Dahl wouldn't know an Army Intelligence badge for what it was.

Breathing faster, Dahl went wide eyed as he sat back down, cowed. "What do you want?!" he asked, with a slight tone of panic in his voice.

"As I said, Mr. Dahl, your cooperation." Samuel said sitting down. "Apart from those metal fragments which you've generously donated, I'll need you to remain silent about this event."

"Silent?"

"Yes, silent, as in, don't talk about it, do not mention it, let it go."

"A….and if I don't?" He asked nervously

"Use your imagination." Samuel finished, standing and grabbing the box. Taking out his wallet, he quickly dropped several bills on the table, more than enough for the meal and tip.

His next stop would be to have a quick word with Mr. Dahl's deckhand.

June 26th, 1947.

"Fuck!" Sam tiredly exclaimed as he threw the newspaper on his table in the small motel he was staying at, in Seattle. SUPERSONIC FLYING SAUCERS SEEN BY IDAHO PILOT! The headline bore. After making a couple of subtle inquiries, he determined that Dahl hadn't said anything, and this was independent of that sighting it seemed. Hastily checking out, he had to make his to Pendleton, where Mr. Arnold, the man who had seen these "saucers" was reported to be working out of.

June 28, 1947, Kenneth Arnold work residence

Samuel had resigned himself to staying in the Pacific Northwest for a while. There had been a number of sightings of unidentified flying objects, and he had been tasked with investigating these. He'd already visited a few locations talking with people who had seen something, though none of them had evidence like Dahl had, so he hadn't had to pressure them like him. Likely they were just nutbirds trying to get attention. Now, he was in the home of one Kenneth Arnold (the man lived in Idaho, but had a small place in Pendleton where he worked), who claimed to have seen nine large objects moving at impossibly fast speeds. Samuel was to assess if the stories had any merit to them, and if they were worth worrying about. Thus far, Mr. Arnold had been far more cooperative than Dahl. He'd reiterated everything he'd seen, and so far it was verbatim for what he'd said we saw in the papers. Scribbling notes, Samuel was pleased with his progress, so far it looked as though this guy hadn't seen anything more than what may have been a mirage.

"And so, Mr. Arnold, you estimate that the objects disappeared around the vicinity of Mt. Adams?"

"Yeah, I flew parallel to them for a bit, as best as I could, though again they were moving a hell of a lot faster than I was, but yeah, that's roughly where I lost visual. Bear in mind, I only had line of sight for a minute and a half before they vanished entirely."

"Okay, and one last question, these object, according to you, they were disk shaped. Did any of them look like they were in trouble at all?"

"Well, no in so far as I can tell, they looked like disks to me, and they all seemed right as rain, they were even doing little maneuvers that made me think of military aircraft." Nodding satisfied, he stood and collected his things. Whatever Kenneth Arnold had seen, it seemed like it wasn't whatever Dahl had seen.

July 7th, 1947. Upper Earth Orbit

The Asgard vessel had been attempting to correct its situation, which ended in failure; the ship's systems had been damaged by the year in hyperspace to the point where they no longer functioned properly. Its last pass had seen many of the smaller parts shorn from the ship, a lower secondary command pod had entirely separated and fell with the next cloud of debris. According to the computer, the debris fell into a large body of empty water.

Shuddering, the ship entered its final orbit, plunging into the planet's inescapable grasp. As it hit the upper atmosphere, the hull began to glow red as the ship cooked in the friction of reentry. It made one complete circle around the world before it plummeted deeper, parts breaking off and disintegrating as the ship settled in its final course. The central command blister remained surprisingly in one piece as the rest of the ship broke apart and followed it in, a massive rain of debris trailing the ship and the smaller parts burnt up. The remaining engine nacelle exploded like the former, showing the rest of the debris in an explosive cloud. This tore into the back of the command blister, exposing it to the elements, the large amount of heat began to cook the inside of the craft as it made its final landing. The dead clones quickly cooked, their pale grey skin becoming charred as the craft began to approach the ground rapidly. The dutiful computer who had seen the ship through its journey quickly shut down as the power was cut to its section, its faint lights dying as the rest of the ship was engulfed in an ever brighter light. Many of the smaller metal pieces had disintegrated entirely or showered across the large desert; the remains were now falling towards…

July 7th, 1947. Roswell, New Mexico

Mac Brazel looked up and saw a fireball shoot across the sky, it fell beyond the ridgeway of his property and crashed several miles down the road in a bright flash of light he saw above the ridge.

"Holy Shit!" he yelled a he ran into his home and grabbed a phone, he wasn't sure if it was a civilian plane, or maybe a plane from the air force base, but that crash looked bad and he'd be damned if he let someone die. After talking on the phone for several minutes he hung up and dialed the next number, the Fosters needed to be informed about what was happening on their ranch…

July 9th, 1947, Area 52 (Stargate Initiative Headquarters)

Samuel sighed. Several of the soldiers involved in the skirmish on ES-5 were coming back through the gate to check check out the wreckage, along with some of their linguists, and Doctor Littlefield.

Already rampant news was spreading about the so called "Roswell Incident," and Samuel had been assigned to handle damage control and keep speculation contained. His first order of business would be to keep the families involved telling the same story. The next step would be making sure that all the debris was picked up, including any pieces that the witnesses might have squirreled away. He yawned as the gears in his mind whirled rapidly, so much work had to be done, and he'd gotten little sleep between the plane ride from Oregon and the drive through parts of New Mexico. Recovering, he made a few notes in his book before he turned to Professor Langford as the first soldiers came through. "This is incredible." he said.

"It really is, isn't it? The President is attempting to establish a new agency to handle extraterrestrial, and other, er, highly unusual issues, Earthside. Myself and several others who have been doing some work already have been recruited for when it gets set up. The official documents will be coming in through executive order in the next few days. I forget the code name for the whole thing, Magic, Majesty, something like that" he said with a wave of his hand.

July 11th, 1947, Roswell Airbase

Simmons stared at the collection of wreckage, or, more appropriately, at the bodies recovered from it. "I don't fuckin' believe it." he said.

Agent Marcus nodded. "I don't think any of us do. Now, Sergeant Simmons, your report of the incident on ES-5 says that you were the only one to get a glimpse beneath the armor of one of the Scorpion Warriors."

Simmons nodded. "I just saw a patch of skin and some blood. Red, like here on Earth."

"And the skin? What was it like?"

"It was dark ... I think. I wasn't really focused on that. I was more focused on trying to stay alive. Why?"

"In the reports, it mentions that the warriors moved almost mechanically, like machines. But machines don't bleed. The possibility of an advanced armor suit was discussed by some of the scientists I've spoken to. And, given the fact that the attack was only about a month ago, the possibility cannot be ruled out that this ship was sent to investigate."

"They couldn't have known to come here. They didn't get the dialing sequence for Fort Roosevelt, and even if they had, shouldn't they have sent the ship there?" Simmons responded defensively.

"We believe it's possible that they recognized us, as in humans, from their hypothetical previous visits here, and therefore Earth was the only possible origin point for the team."

"And you think they sent a ship to investigate?"

"Yes."

"Then if you already have all that down, why am I here?"

"Because you've had the closest encounter with them. You handled one of their bodies. You have the best idea of the size of the Warriors. We want you to see if you think one of these aliens could have fit inside the entity. And the rest of the squad can help see if they think any of the technology is similar. You mention that the alien's skin was black, and looking here at these aliens, I'm seeing a lot of black skin. Now, the eggheads are running some tests to see if this is their natural color or not, but we won't know for a couple days. This is incredibly important, Sergeant Simmons. If they know where we are, if they see us as a threat, we don't stand a chance."

Simmons walked over to one of the corpses, and gingerly began to pick it up. "Damn things don't weigh much at all." he said.

"Does it look like it could have fit into the Scorpion Warrior's body?"

Simmons frowned, thinking. "Maybe." he said. "I have no clue what it's like inside the armor of those things, I mean it looked like chainmail and plates, the kind knights would wear. I don't know what kind of alien technology might be in the stuff, all I remember was that it could hit like a son of a bitch." Simmons grimaced, still unsure: "I just don't know. If it was these little guys, it'd have to have been some kind of super suit."

Samuel nodded. That was good enough for him. For the time being he'd recommend that they operate on the theory that these were the aliens that had been encountered on ES-5.

Elsewhere, Ernest was being briefed on the alien wreckage by one of the scientists in the Initiative.

"The metal slag found by Mr. Dahl appears to be similar to sections of the alien vessel's hull. It wouldn't be unreasonable to theorize that what Mr. Dahl saw was debris from the ship. In addition, attempts to perform further tests on the metal, namely, to take a smaller sample of it, have drawn parallels to another discovery made via the Stargate: the reinforcing at Heliopolis."

"You mean those metal pillars we've been trying to cut into?"

"The very same, they all seem to be constructed from some kind of metal that has properties we've never seen before. Based on the metal's mass and density, it's lighter than steel, but with a melting point and strength far above anything else I can think of. It's strange, a metal like this doesn't exist on the periodic table, hell, nothing like this exists on Earth."

"Exactly … On Earth." Ernest chimed in.

"Indeed, whatever this is, we sure as hell haven't found a source like it on Earth. Tests indicate that this metal we've recovered from the wreck is alloyed with other more elements, though we won't get a detailed rundown until we managed to actually melt a piece down and run it through a centrifuge."

"Doctor…If theoretically we were confronted with a vehicle whose exterior was made with stuff like this…what would our options be?"

"Well…That depends, we don't know what this is alloyed with and what some of the properties of it are. But given the relative toughness of the Heliopolis pillars, we can make some guesses. First we know that thermite hasn't made a dent in those things, so any incendiary material that could weaken metal would have to burn significantly hotter, or hold a high temperature a longer period of time. Another super dense material such as tungsten might be able to act as an armor penetrating shell or round. Hell, I hear that uranium in a depleted state could also act as a similar agent, though with those two you have to deal with rarity. You could also try to pound it with enough high explosives, but how much that could actually damage it is debatable."

Ernest grimaced, those all weren't the best options, they either had their own supply problems or could potentially deal out a large amount of collateral damage. "Is there any other way?" he asked.

The doctor shrugged. "If you're desperate enough, you could try dropping an atomic weapon on it…"

Later that day, Samuel, Ernest, Paul, Don, and Simmons were gathered in a room, one of the earpieces laid out on the table. They'd found a way to adjust both the volume and the reception of the device, so multiple people could use one.

"Mr. President, it makes the most sense, given the circumstances, to operate on the assumption of an imminent threat." Samuel finished as he concluded his analysis

"What the hell can we do about it, though?" Truman asked after a pregnant pause. Don voiced the obvious.

"They have interstellar spaceships, so they can attack us easily. We need defensive spaceships, get some of our boys into orbit."

"The Lieutenant is right, Mr. President. We have to get something up there that can let us fight them if they come. I spent a while observing Dr. Von Braun's rocket project. They could get rockets into the upper atmosphere. With appropriate funding and resources, they'd make progress. We need manned defenses. They're our best hope."

"We're already stretched thin on the budget. How can we afford to fund a space program?" Truman said.

"Military funding." Simmons said. "Take funds from where you can, divert it into a space program."

Don chimed in, "That's what we've been doing so far, and we've still been left with a bit of a hole to deal with. If we wanted to make a space program, we might have to have an open office by which to do so. The question then become twofold, how the hell do you convince Congress to give tons of money to a space program, and who controls it?"

"Give it to the Navy." Simmons said flatly, as though it was obvious.

"Why the Navy?" Paul asked.

"The problems with the Navy have mainly come from them feeling like they're being unfairly penalized for the Stargate. Throw them a bone. Give them something that can make them feel like they aren't just being shunted into a niche role. Let them be the line of defense they want to be, only against extraterrestrial threats, not Earthbound ones. Let's also not kid ourselves, if anyone is going to have the experience manning large vessels and keeping order for long periods of time shut off from contact it'll be the Navy boys. I don't really see the Air Force moving giant battle ships through space."

That warranted a chuckle from the table.

"Plus, this gives the Air boys and the Army a nice check. Both sides want to be the guys with the nukes, and I think it goes without saying, if we're going to build space defense, we're going to need nukes. If the Navy is entrusted with some, that'll go a long way to patching up this division in the branches."

"Simmons…are you sure you aren't a politician?" Samuel asked.

"My father was on the city council back home." Simmons shrugged.

Dr. Langford put his hands together for several moments, looking down, deep in thought. After several more moments he snapped his fingers. "This is all a good idea, Simmons, and I wholeheartedly endorse it. I also recommend, if we do pass this proposal along to the Navy, Mr. President, we also sacrifice some of our funding to help with the idea, give it back to the Navy."

"WHAT?!" Ernest exclaimed in disbelief. "You can't do that! The Stargate is the most important discovery in the history of mankind, and you want to risk the funding we already barely have? You want to risk killing the greatest program in history to keep a bunch of close-minded fools who can't see the importance of the Stargate happy?! You, of all people, Paul? You know how important this is!"

"Doctor, which is more important: this program benefiting Earth, or making sure that there's still an Earth for the program to benefit?" Don said.

Paul spoke up. "I understand where you're coming from, Ernest. The Stargate has become the greatest project of my lifetime. But they have a point. This program is useless if there's no one left for it to help. We have to look at the big picture, son. If the 'gate's program has to suffer in the short term to save it in the long term, that's the best course of action."

Speaking up, Truman continued, "I agree, we need to ensure the safety of this world, as much as exploration is a priority, it is not the top priority. I'm putting my foot down with the Navy boys, they'll have to accept the result, we can't continue to dance around this issue." Pausing for several moments Truman collected his thoughts then spoke back into the microphone. "I'm going to start making some calls and preparations with Attlee. It's clear that if we now have this dimension of security to worry about, we'll need to better coordinate with our allies. I want to talk with him about bringing some of the more developed Dominion nations aboard this program too."

"So soon, Mr. President?" Paul asked.

"Indeed, this spacecraft crashing on our soil is a wake up call, no matter how strong we think we are, we don't have the capabilities of these aliens. If we ever should find ourselves under threat, we need to stand together. The prime minister and I will start working on incorporating the Commonwealth into our program, and with time, the rest of our allies abroad. Meanwhile, I'm giving the Initiative an order. We need to find out for sure if the aliens you encountered at ES-2 and ES-5 are the same ones that sent the spaceship here. The Initiative is to send two combat recons, one to ES-5 and the other to ES-2."

"Mr. President, sir, with all due respect is that wise? We only have a very limited knowledge of those things, I'm worried about sending soldiers into those worlds." Don said, respectfully.

"I understand lieutenant, but we need to know if we're dealing with the same race, if these turn out to be two different aliens, then we can breathe a bit easier. But if they're the same, then that means the ES-2 and ES-5 aliens know where we live, and if that's the case, I'll have no choice but to bring the Soviets, every other nation in the world, and the general public in on this program and that's something I don't want to do. I don't want to give Stalin any possible lead in production and technology, and I sure as hell don't want a panicked civilian population. This kind of technology cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. I need you to do this, because otherwise the program might be getting a lot more crowded."

July 12th, 1947, Washington, D.C.

Harry Truman knew it was big. The alien vessel that had crashed near Roswell, New Mexico had been recovered successfully, along with several alien corpses. He'd been talking to the few people who knew about the Stargate, and, after impressing upon them the importance of the situation, they'd agreed to form a new department that would work closely with the Stargate program, known as the National Intelligence Department, or NID. While details were still being hammered out, it had been decided that the Stargate program and the NID would be wrapped into one budgetary package. This added a degree of legitimacy to the Initiative that allowed it access to more than just black budget and shuffled-around funds. NID's main goal would be to handle all intelligence matters for the SGI, both abroad, and more importantly, domestically. He'd already been informed that several people were being worked over to assure their cooperation in their silence, or sticking to a story that wouldn't implicate the SGI should they have already talked with the media.

This, of course, had forced his hand with the budget talk with the Navy. Already events were being set in motion. In addition to the upcoming splitting-off of the Air Force from the Army, which Truman had been advised to let happen, his advisers citing concerns over the Army having too much power with command of the atomic weaponry and being in charge of the largest branch. With that decided, Truman then firmly informed the admirals about the situation and the next plan. The Navy would be reduced to the levels discussed, and the Marine Corps would slowly be dismantled, with its ship borne assets going to the Navy, aviation assets going to the Air Force and its infantry components would be gradually phased into the Army as a specialized branch. The president disliked taking such a hack and slash approach to the nuanced situation, but with the Roswell incident and the previously mentioned ES-5 encounter, the military budget situation needed to be resolved decisively. He'd made one concession to Navy in addition to giving them the directive to take over full aerospace research, which was still pending and would take effect at the beginning of the next fiscal year: they would get exactly one of their desired "supercarriers" when they had a design thought up, with options for more to be commissioned depending upon the success of the first and the necessity the global situation might place on creating more of these vessels. With the Sec Defense position still vacant until September, he hoped that by then the situation would be more stable.

At least, that's what he hoped until he read the front cover of the New York Times and several other newspapers:

TRUMAN TO GUT NAVY! PRESIDENT PROPOSES "RADICAL" BUDGET MEASURES!

MARINE CORPS TO BE DISMANTLED! TRUMAN'S NEW BUDGET REMOVES BRANCH THAT WON THE PACIFIC!

TRUMAN TO THE HEROES OF THE PACIFIC: "GET OUT!"

The worst had to be the cartoons. One in particular showed Truman dressed as Hideki Togo and stabbing a marine in the back with a bayonet. He would have laughed if he didn't recognise the critical danger it represented to his administration.

He was rubbing his eyes with his hands when an aid bust into the room, a frantic expression on his face.

"Sir," he exclaimed, "Admirals, King, Hawley, and Kinkaid have resigned! The press is demanding a comment!"

It had finally happened, someone had gone to the damned press, and now every damned beltway insider, from journalist to representatives from districts with navy yards were hammering him for meetings and statements. King, and several other admirals and naval officials, had resigned in protest. He saw his poll numbers take a dip as people began clamoring. The election was a year away, and he knew this might hurt, but he was banking on the Army to pick up some support. The fact that they tended to be larger employers helped. Still every little bit had hurt.

He was scheduled for an appointment with Republican Senator Robert Taft, who had, for some reason, requested a private meeting with him, saying only that he wished to discuss certain things unofficially. Taft was a character Truman knew he had to be wary of. He was the head of the Republican policy planning committee, ad certainly a personal enemy. He had been responsible for the crafting and passing of the Taft-Hawley Labor laws, which he had had no choice but to sign into law, the damn bill. An aid had apparently heard from Taft's secretary that he wanted to discuss navy affairs. That had struck the President as odd, as Taft had never expressed much interest in military let alone naval activities. The only shipbuilder in Taft's state of Ohio was the American Ship Building COmpany, but the navy had never placed navy orders of significance with them anyways. Truman suspected that he'd be trying to ask about the navy, which was odd, he remembered Taft tended to not like large government groups, and the only ship builder in Ohio was the American Ship Building Company, but to Truman's knowledge, the Navy hadn't placed any orders with the company even before the cuts.

When one of his aides showed the Senator in, President Truman stood and extended a hand.

"Senator Taft, welcome." he said. The senator took his hand and shook it.

"Mr. President, thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I know I wasn't very specific in my request."

"Senator, I'm more than happy to discuss anything you would like to talk about."

"Well, then, Mr. President, I'll get right to it: what's this I hear about an interplanetary gateway?"


	15. Politics and Preparations

Chapter 12

July 12th, 1947, Washington, D.C.

To President Truman's credit, he didn't make any motion that would indicate guilt or knowledge, no sharp intake of breath, no sudden flutter of the eye, no double take, just a silence in the air.

"Pardon?" He asked curiously after a couple of second. "I'm sorry, senator, did you just say…interplanetary gateway?"

Taft in turn made no motion one way or another, he merely sounded inquisitive and slightly assertive, the sound of man trying to divine what unknown was currently out in the ether of Washington.

"Indeed, recently I was contacted by a couple of concerned individuals who had…how shall I say … an interesting story to tell. Now these men I trust and suffice to say they have a good ear to the ground in terms of military matters in this nation. Now they tell me that there is some kind of classified project that involves an "interplanetary gateway", and that millions of dollars have been sent to this program. Now for the life of me can't seem to locate any mention of this supposed program, so I decided that it … behooved me to investigate further, especially if there are funds being misallocated."

Truman looked at the bespectacled man and grimaced internally. "Bastards." he thought, "Didn't just go to the damn press."

Crossing his fingers, Truman centered himself and spoke "Well senator…that's quite a tale, I don't quite know what to make of it."

"Well as I said, it seemed a bit…strange, and if there were something that was so hypothetically classified, I figured it might be pertinent to national security to not drag any sort of information like that out into the Chamber without some kind of confirmation."

Chuckling, Truman continued. "Well senator, I can assure you, I haven't heard of any…what was it "interplanetary gateways" it sounds like something out of one of those pulp magazines kids like to read. We might be working on many scientific projects of varying levels of classification, but we don't have space travel. Maybe one day, but not today."

Chucking along with Truman, Taft nodded "Heh heh, it did seem a tad strange, please bear in mind the people who brought this to me were, how should I say…very involved with the military, but I don't know, maybe with the war over the tensions finally gone and they can finally let their brains relax."

"Likely, I went a tad strange for a day or two after I left the Guard, you just get so used to a routine and structure, then one day its gone, and we've been working hard the past six years keeping everything organized, what with the mobilizations and demobilizations."

"Probably true, the war's been over for almost two years now, but we're still reeling from everything and it seems like new things keep peeking over the horizon. That speech you gave was fairly spot on I feel, it's good to see some action being done to stop Stalin's advancement without getting us too tied down overseas, and the best part, we're just giving the Greeks and Turks money, Russians can't quite complain about that."

"Indeed." Truman said enthusiastically, happy the subject had shifted.

The two then spent the next fifteen minutes making small talk, discussing policies, agreements and disagreements, for all it was worth, Truman considered it fairly productive. Finally, Taft made a motion to get up. Shaking Truman's hand, he smiled.

"Well, I'm glad we got all that strangeness cleared up and got some real work done"

"Agreed!" Truman said warmly, releasing his hand.

Grabbing his hat, Taft started to move towards the door.

"Of course, now that we've cleared up the issue of classified projects, I'll need to open two formal discussions in the Senate. First, we'll need to have some professionals examine my friends, if people who've gone batty can be in high places, we'll need a full examination of the military to make sure they're in tip top shape."

"What'll happen?" Truman asked.

"Well, likely some psychiatrists will meet and talk with them, then give a report to the Senate, tell us their opinions, and of course the evidence for the case against the men. Shouldn't be too hard, once every Senator hears about how some of our top men were talking about gateways to the stars it shouldn't be too hard to open a formal inquiry."

Truman simply stopped and looked at Taft, who continued.

"Then of course there's the budgetary matters. I've been going over some records for the defense budget and there seems to be a gap in some of the spending. It's nothing much, a bit here a bit there, why at first glance it looks like it's all being spent accordingly, but if you look closer, its clear funds are being shuffled around to other sources. The Appropriations Committee will need to be informed immediately so we can get to the bottom of this discrepancy. It shouldn't be to much, we'll just be going over the military's budget for the past couple of years with a fine tooth and weeding out anything that doesn't belong." He finished his voice taking on a definite chill to it.

As he began to move towards the door, Truman's mind raced, he know the next several seconds would be critical. Robert was in the opposite party, he'd made numerous opinions very clear, where would he be on the Stargate though?

It didn't matter, he needed to remain silent.

"Wait." Truman said, slowly rising from, his desk to stare at Taft. Robert might have been larger and better built than Harry, but Truman narrowed his eyes as he focused on the senator.

"What do you want, Senator?" Truman asked.

"What I want Mr. President, is for you to stop wasting my time, I want some damn answers about what the hell is going on in our military that warrants you gutting our Navy, one of our main lines of defense, because according to some of my friends, its because of a project that involves a "Stargate", and if what they say is true, then it would warrant a closer look. Now Mr. President, are we going to talk as men, or are we going to dance around this issue for another fifteen minutes?"

Breathing sharply, Truman nodded. "Have a seat Senator Taft, I'll have something brought in that will explain everything."

An hour later, the film reel stopped and the lights turned back on. Truman had told Taft everything, the discovery, the initial contact at ES-2, the next year of base building, and recently the attack at ES-5 and his plan for two combat recons.

"Well that's the long and short of the situation right now senator. Do you have any questions?"

The Senator dove right in:

"So, am I to understand that currently there is little civilian oversight on this Initiative?"

"Well we do have civilians involved, and Dr. Langford is in charge, and that's the current plan, to have a civilian in charge of the Initiative."

"But currently the organization is predominantly military?"

"Yes."

"And right now, the biggest problem you've had is getting the funding you need without attracting attention?"

"Correct."

Locking his fingers together, Taft didn't speak for several moments, Truman wondered what his next though would be.

Finally, the Senator cracked his knuckles and spoke "I believe I can help you Mr. President."

Truman shook himself, surprised at the ease of the situation. "You can?"

"Well specifically, we can help each other. I can work to get you that budget you wanted for the program, well maybe not entirely that much, but enough to finish our bases and get them equipped and manned to how you want, AND to keep this NID operational."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, just something small, something as a reasonable person I think you can agree on."

"What?"

"Oversight. As loathe as I am to say it, there needs to be some kind of higher government supervision on this project. From what you tell me it's been ad-hoc for the moment and is answering directly to you. That's fine for a chain of command, but for check and balances it does nothing."

Truman raised an eyebrow "Really, I'm surprised you're okay with everything else, exploring other worlds, working with the British and Commonwealth, spending money."

Taft snorted "Mr. President, I may be in favor of keeping America focused on its interests and others misconstrue that as me burying my head in the sand, but no. Any fool can see the potential benefit of this program, and with the crash landing in New Mexico its clear there are aliens with space travel capacity outside this gate network. We need more information. I also realize trying to keep this to America is also a fool's errand, I dislike entangling alliances, but when it's literally for the protection of this planet from extrasolar threats, it only makes sense to work together. Same with the money."

"But you want more government in the program."

"No. Oversight. Keeping this program lean and mean is preferable, but we need to keep an eye on this, especially this NID. For god's sake look at Hoover and the FBI, it's practically an entity on its own, no one can shit without Hoover getting his nose deep in it. Can you imagine something like that, but with access to alien technologies? Also we need to keep our teams honest and ensure that in any possible first contact situation, we don't do something to fuck up and piss off more aliens. I'll admit, I'd like to get as much technology back to Earth as possible, but we shouldn't do that if it's at the expense of alienating ourselves with other possible races out there, or even bring more down on us. We've got enough with the 2's and 5's."

Truman couldn't fault Taft's logic, he'd had his own misgivings about what NID could do, but was prepared to look over them for the security of Earth. Taft's proposal sounded fair.

"Another thing I'd ask is that you approve more of the proposed carriers for the Navy. I know you authorized one, but let's bring it to an actual production run, not just one prototype."

"Really? Those things will be expensive as hell to build and it'll take time to get them out."

"I know, but we have to remember there's another threat out there, Earthside. We need a strong shield to keep ourselves safe here. I don't want us doing anything to provoke Stalin and the others, but having no defense is tantamount to leaving the door open and letting the Communists in."

Truman though for several seconds before continuing "I know we've been doing our damnedest to keep the budget balanced, but if you're onboard and can convince Congress to accept a raised defense budget to cover the gaps and provide for the Navy, then I'm more than willing to accept."

"I'm glad to hear that Mr. President." Taft said grabbing some paper and writing several notes down.

"One last thing." Truman said, brandishing the newspaper with the denouncement of his plan for the Marines. "What do you make of this?" he asked

Looking up, Taft spoke "Well, you're going to have an uphill battle in the Capitol, Vandergrift has been making a lot of friends in the House and Senate, that speech he gave last year won him a lot of points, and as you can tell, the public love his boys…Now me personally I just want to make sure our Air Force and Navy are well equipped and prepared, and if we can trim some fat anywhere, there would be good."

"Well the Army and Air Force are already onboard, what's the word with the Navy?"

"Officially, they're sympathetic to the Marines and want to help them…Unofficially, they're prepared to stand by the Army's recommendation in exchange for guaranteeing the independence of their air wings against the Air Force."

Truman nodded "Eisenhower, Marshall, and several others are also ready to give a recommendation for unifying the Marines into the rest of the military. If we can get the backing of the three branches and their higher officials, and can deliver a conclusive report to Congress, we should be able to secure that portion of the plan."

"Agreed. The Navy is still hammering out the plans for their new "supercarrier", but from what my friends tell me, this thing will be impressive. Capable of holding heavy bombers, jet fighters and if worse comes to worse, nuclear weaponry. Combine with the Army's experience with amphibious landings like in Italy and Normandy they'll be able to make a strong case for the integration."

Truman again nodded in agreement as he too began to take notes. While informal processes and agreement making such as this were easy to handle, actually bringing them into fruition would be somewhat difficult.

"Well, at least Forrestal will be happy." he thought aloud "He was hounding us for days about giving the Navy more money, but I couldn't figure out how for the life of me to get that to him, even with the rocketry plans."

The two talked for more than an hour, hammering out ideas and minutia for the military. They'd be bringing in several generals and admirals in the coming days, as well as meeting with several House and Senate leaders to make sure everything would come according to plan. Taft would be in charge of the secret oversight committee for the SGI, the composition of which would include himself, as well as several senators and congressmen, in addition to a few military and justice officials. The plan was to make it reasonably comprehensive from the various branches of government to ensure all of the needs for America and her allies would be met. To Taft's chagrin, but at Truman's insistence, it was also decided that the British would have an observer in the Oversight group as well, with open placement for other observers to come in as nations could be brought up to speed on the program, such as the Commonwealth nations.

Speaking of which, Truman noted that he would be meeting with the Australian, Canadian and New Zealand ambassadors in a week to bring them into the program, with the British ambassador there to give support.

His thoughts also wandered over to the SGI themselves. They'd be embarking on their expeditions fairly soon either tomorrow or the next day. He prayed each night that the aliens would miraculously not be the same ones that landed in New Mexico, yet Harry Truman expected and prepared for the worse.

For all he knew, he might be the last president of the United States before an alien assault brought the world to its knees.

July 12th, 1947. Area 52 (SGI Headquarters)

"What do you mean, burnt to a crisp?" Langford asked Hammond as the soldier radioed from Camp Roosevelt.

"Like I said, we went to ES-5 with a full assault force, and found the forest burnt down. We managed to backtrack to the stream and initial ambush site and found nothing; it was as black as the ash. There's nothing here, or if it was here it's dust."

"Jesus. What happened?"

"No clue sir, it could have been a bad brush fire, we don't exactly know what seasons are like on these alien planets. For all we know we arrived in the middle of the dry season and all that plasma and explosives started a flame. The aliens might have started it, lighting, or some other thing. Point is, we've been walking around here for a good day and haven't found anything, no base, no bodies. Nothing, just ash."

"Christ. Okay, well you and your men did well Lieutenant. Get some rest and we'll try ES-2 tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll actually find something there that we can take home."

"Will do professor" Hammond finished as the gate shut down.

Massaging his temples, Langford took several notes. With the forest in ES-5 gone and no known contacts there, the site was now being assigned to the off limits folder for the time being. They still knew nothing about the Scorpion Warriors and who or what they were. Same with the Eagles. Was ES-5 the Scorpion's home, same as ES-2 to for the Eagles. There were just so many unknowns and he felt bad about sending his men into that kind of danger.

"What kind of malicious being are these?" He thought to himself…

Elsewhere, in the Milky Way…

Ba'al looked into the small sphere and took a breath. It wasn't as though he was not looking forward to this conversation, so much as the general awkwardness of it. In general though, any conversation with Selket tended to go that way. One didn't expect to converse with the Queen of Shadows and get a clear answer for anything.

His main goal was to figure out what had happened on one of his worlds. Reports indicated that an entire quarter of the continent's forest had burned down and after ruling out any involvement from Sokar, the only other forces he could think that might be operating in his territory that might be operating were the Tok'ra or Selket. Either way a quick word with her would likely confirm any suspicion.

Soon the sphere began to ripple and the image of a woman with dark hair and almond shaped eyes looked at him.

"Ba'al." she said simply.

"Ah Lady Selket, a pleasure as always, I hope I've found you at a good time."

"What do you want?" She asked coldly.

"Hmm, straight to business again. A pity, I always though we enjoyed good conversation." he replied sardonically.

"If you want to use my Ashraks, Ba'al, then you already know the terms and the price…And the rules." she said, her voice booming slightly "I won't have you going behind my back to try and kill Sokar again with my soldiers."

Ba'al raised his hands slightly in peace "Oh no, I won't try that again, I'd be rather foolish to try and lose your wonderful services. No, all I'm after is information."

"What do you want?" Selket asked with a small sigh

"Ah, well it just so happens I captured a Tok'ra infiltrator. I won't bore you with the messy details, much as I know you like them, but suffice to say it would seem that on my border with Sobek there might be operativesv there. I also know they tend to make things difficult for you, what with them trying to work in your shadows. I just wanted to see if there was any truth to that pest's dying worlds, I'd hate to have any…complications in any future business arrangements between us."

Selket paused for several second before speaking, he head raised high. "Yes, in fact my agents have neutralized several of the Tok'ra in the area as well. There base is somewhere in the border…If you really want to get them you'll likely want to move there."

"Ah, well my thanks my Lady, as always I hope to work again soon." he finished as he deactivated the sphere.

Looking to his First Prime, he spoke with a lower voice.

"It looks like Selket got our defector, I guess Sobek gave her a good price. Go ahead and have your Jaffa take apart the guest quarters, it looks like Ammit won't be joining us after all."

The Jaffa nodded and moved off to give orders. Looking out the window of his palace, he sighed.

A pity really, he rather enjoyed that forest…

July 13th. Camp Roosevelt, ES-3

As the last symbol light up, the Stargate activated with a familiar woosh. Assembled in the main bay was the assault recon force. A full half of the SGI's military force was prepared to embark on the expedition; four American squads, two British squads, as well as four Sherman and two Cromwell tanks, with a trio of M8 Greyhounds for rapid exploration. In addition, four half tracks and six universal carriers were loaded with the squads who would be going through, with an additional two half tracks mounting quad machine gun turrets. Finally a small of contingent of four jeeps and four deuce and a half's were there for additional scouting and transportation respectively. All in all, twenty nine vehicles would be going through with the soldiers, for a total of more than one hundred personnel. It would be the Initiatives largest expedition to date.

A pair of privates wheeled the gun cart camera through the gate. Word was that a better version of the device, mounted on remote control treads was in the works. After a miniature, a voice came over the wireless.

"Looks clear, no Eagle warriors on screen, but it looks like things have been busy."

"How so?" Don asked

"Well, some of the grass looked flattened, almost like a walking trail and it leads away from the gates. From the stills we got from that last camera, that wasn't there before, so it's possible our friends have been busy."

"Noted." Don said, as he stood on the back of the lead half track and looked at the assembled force. Technically a force this size would warrant the command of a captain, but with none available, Don had divided the load between himself and Lieutenant Powell, with Powell and his adjutant Norwell being in charge of the British component of the expedition, and Hammond and his adjutant (Simmons in this case) taking charge of the American half.

"Now hear this!" Don said, his voice booming over the din "Footage came back positive, we are a-go. Everyone mount up!" He heard the scramble as the men quickly jumped into their respective transports. The tanks and other vehicles were already manned and running. Over the wireless he continued

"You all have been briefed, you know the mission, we're to try and ascertain the identity of our foes and see if they were the ones who landed that ugly ass spaceship in New Mexico, with the secondaries being to try and bring some bodies and equipment back for our labs boys, that what our lovely trucks are here for." He said gesturing to the back of the assembly.

"Tanks will take lead, then the carriers, then the tracks, then the recon vehicles. We fall in around the gate while the jeeps and greyhounds scout ahead. Once contact is made, we'll come down the wrath of god on these things and make 'em wish they hadn't been born!" He finished with a resounding cheer roaring through the building.

Roaring forward, the lead Sherman rolled up the ramps and quickly disappeared through the event horizon, followed shortly by the second, third and forth Sherman, the Cromwell's quickly following them through.

"Let's get to it boys! Tally Ho!" He heard Powell bark to his men as the tiny carriers rocketed up the ramp and launched themselves one by one through the gate.

"Look for the blokes with the golden helmets, careful observation boys." he finished as his carrier disappeared through the gate.

Don felt the half track rumble as it drove up the ramp. Gripping his Thompson tightly, he hoped their new equipment would be sufficient for this engagement.

"Hope those bastards like explosives." he though as he felt the cool touch of the shimmering pool ahead and vanished from Camp Roosevelt to the fight ahead...


	16. They're HUMANS?!?!

Chapter 13

ES-2 Stargate. . .

The coolness that Don had become accustomed to with gate travel quickly washed over him as the halftrack came through the gate. Looking ahead, he saw that the tanks had already fallen into a rough diamond formation, at least one tank facing each different direction around the gate. Powell's men were in turn scattering around the area, dismounting from their vehicles with weapons drawn and prepared to engage. Don and the soldiers coming through did likewise, moving to a different point around the gate perimeter and dismounting. Crouching and lying prone, looking in all directions. Behind him, the rest of the task force emerged from the wormhole smoothly, fanning out and securing the area. Once a perimeter was established, the teams had more or less all fallen into position. Looking at his wrist, Don checked the chronograph he'd started when the expedition first set through, it read six minutes and forty three seconds. He grimaced; that was a full minute forty three longer than he'd anticipated the maneuver would take. They'd only had time to drill the maneuver for a week or so at Camp Roosevelt, and as best they could, they couldn't quite simulate the condition of emerging from a gate and falling in, partially because ES-4 had been enduring a pretty severe sandstorm for most of the week, which had scuttled their original practice idea.

Staying put for several more minutes, Don eventually became convinced that there was nothing waiting in ambush of him and the team, at least for the moment.

"Powell, Norwell, Simmons, lets meet up." he said into his earpiece. Looking across the plain, he saw a trio of figures rise and hustle over to his position, as the four met, they all took a knee.

"Well, it looks like the welcoming committee opted for a rain check." Powell said jovially as his eyes scanned the horizon.

"What's up with that sir?" Simmons asked "I'd have though the Eagles would've been keeping an eye on the gate. The gun cart only came through a couple of years ago, and judging by those tracks this gates been seeing plenty of use; where are they?"

"I don't know Simmons, we might have just lucked out and missed one of their patrols, they could have vacated the area, or something else. We don't really have a lot of intel on this and that makes me nervous."

"Are we still a-go for the first part of the plan?"

Don frowned, their initial plan was to have the group wait by the gate while Greyhound and Jeep scouts moved ahead to find the enemy. Looking out over the plain though, he realized that it was significantly more flat than they'd though, the gun camera hadn't done it justice, if they waited by the gate, they'd be visible for at least a couple kilometers all around. He could just make out some ridges in the distance.

"We'll change it up a bit." he said, shouldering his Thompson and pulling up some of the prairie grass until he had a nice flat dirt surface to work with. "We'll send the scout vehicles up ahead over the ridge following the tracks, if they can confirm it's clear, we'll move everything up. We're too exposed out here to make camp and since we know nothing about the enemy's capabilities I don't want to leave any of our task group as a potential sitting duck." Reaching into the dirt, he made two straight lines in the clay like soil with his fingers. "We'll split the group into two columns, Powell and Norwell will take the British detachment on the left, and you and I Simmons will take the rest on the right. We'll stay in line of sight with each other, which should mean several kilometers of distance between the two of us. We go like this for about ten miles and then link up. I realize it's a bit random, but I want to make sure the aliens don't have us zeroed in."

He grimaced. "This way, if for some reason we're marching into a trap, it won't wipe out all of us. . . hopefully."

"Well, that's a jolly thought." Powell said glancing around once more "Let's hope we fall into the 'not blown up' category." he finished with a friendly grin.

"You have that right." Simmons nodded in agreement.

Don checked the compass and verified that it worked. With directions established, the team split up into the two columns, Hammond's half and Powell's half. While they assembled into their formations, the Jeeps and Greyhounds drove ahead over to the ridge and called back just as the convoys readied for departure.

"We're all clear, el-tee!" one of the Greyhounds radioed. "It looks fairly clear over this ridgeline, there're some smaller ridges up head that seem to go on for a while, but other than that, it's as flat as the plains!"

"Sounds good, okay, everyone, lets move out!" They two groups split up and moved out towards the first ridgeline. The so called columns were more of an arrow- like formation. The deuces and transport halftracks formed the column, while the tanks and armed half tracks formed at the head. Bringing up the rear were several jeeps and other more lightly armed vehicles.

They'd barely made it over a ridge a couple of miles from the gate before they had their first contact with whoever was on ES-2. It started when Simmons, up front on point, barked over his radio for everyone to shut up.

"What is it, Sergeant?" Hammond asked.

"Hear that?" Simmons said, and Don noticed it too, the screeching sound. A second later, it was Powell who made the guess. "Aircraft!" he yelled, which had everyone's eyes and weapons snapping up to scan the sky for the incoming.

In the cockpit of his Udajeet, an open-air variant of the Death Glider, Kor'us was on patrol, looking for any signs of Apophis' forces. The battle for this world had been ongoing for almost an entire cycle of this particular location, but hopefully the campaign would be completed soon. Ra's forces would be making a surprise push on several of Apophis's positions and by the grace of his god, they would be triumphant.

His orders, and those of his flight wing, were to attack and destroy any intruders on contact. The bulk of the air forces on this world were being devoted to the main assault, smaller skirmishing elements like the Udajeet wings were being deployed on patrol and scouting missions. Kor'us's brother liked to tease him for flying a "junior" craft, but he took pride in his ship and his wing. They might not charge into the main fight like his brother and the main death gliders, but without the eyes of his craft, they couldn't find the enemy. Plus they had the most experience running down and eliminating foes who retreated from the wrath of his god. He smiled as the wing banked and moved to the next patrol sector near the Chappa'ai. He knew that Ra would emerge victorious, of course, his lord had not become Supreme System Lord for being weak. Apophis would pay for his transgression.

As the small wing of craft made their final approach to the sector, Kor'us noticed the signals on his sensors. The readings weren't like anything he'd seen before, at least by Apophis's measure. Calibrating the sensor, he detected twenty nine large heat emissions coming from a location not far from where his wing was heading. Orienting his wing to move to intercept, he calibrated the visual sensors to make the images more clear. Eventually his main image finder pulled up what he was seeing. A large group of strange metal vehicles were moving across the plain, their destination unknown. His eyes widened slightly at the strange contraptions. What had Apophis brought to bear now? He shook his head; it didn't matter, they were just a new set of targets for his wing to intercept. He gave the order to close with the enemy group and attack; once they destroyed the interlopers, the wing would return to base to notify them of its destruction. As the wing flew over the convoy, they began to bank to come in for their final attack run.

When they laid eyes on the unusual vessels again, Kor'us again wondered what they were. They certainly did not seem to be normal Goa'uld craft; he could not recall having ever seen anything like these craft that crawled along the ground. Nor did he recognize the armor worn by the men. It was not normal Jaffa armor. Indeed, it scarcely appeared to be any kind of armor at all. But what else could these intruders be? Surely no other species would be foolish enough to challenge Ra. He'd heard whispers of worlds populated by humans who blindly rejected the gods and even, according to the voices spoken in hush tones in the darkness, had advanced technology that could challenge the divine ones. He always snorted at that assertion, no one was more powerful than the gods; while it was true that other gods out there possessed power too, such as the legendary Asgard, according to myth, they only stuck to their worlds.

Shaking his head again slightly, he brought his focus back to the attack. The vehicles grew closer in his view as the wing dove in for the attack run.

They opened fire against the columns of enemy forces, a single strafing run. Kor'us watched as the gouts of plasma impacted against the plain and sent small geysers of dirt into the air. They'd sent several volleys at the vehicles, yet scored no hits, a few bolts had fallen close, but they weren't used to attacking a foe that moved this fast on the ground. Cursing, Kor'us began to mentally recalibrate his attack run for when they would pass again.

As the wing began to fly over the vehicles , the enemy fired back, with weapons Kor'us had never seen before. He felt his craft shake as something impacted against the hull. Looking at the display for his wing, he saw that the other Uda'jeet were likewise reporting similar damages. The one of the ships turned red. Jerking his head to the right, he saw one of his wingmen burst into flames as the craft began to plummet to the ground in a ball of fire. Banking what was left of his wing for another attack, he began to lock onto the targets, the fools would pay for their transgression against his men. But the damage kept piling up. In the twilight of morning, he could distinguish flashes and massive bursts of noise coming from them, but no visible energy blasts. What kind of weapons were these? His question was partially answered as one of the troops jumped off one of the vehicles, dropped to a knee and raised a cylinder to his shoulder. A large object spat out of the cylinder, and slammed into the udajeet's wings, shredding it and sending hot shrapnel into Kor'us' arm and the side of his helmet. Yelling in pain, he tried to reach the control, but found that the left half of his body just wouldn't respond. The udajeet spiraled out of control, crashing to the ground a hundred meters past the column,. As the craft skittered to a halt, he felt the harness dig painfully into his chest as a spray of soil spread across what was left of his cockpit view screen, until the wreck came to a halt with a painful jerk against a protruding rock, still with enough force to flip over and land upside down, the lopsidedness caused by one of the wings tearing off completely saving him from being crushed between the ground and his seat.

His gaze fuzzy, he could only hear a loud ringing in his ears, a darkness surrounded him, he was awake though. Groggily, he turned his head and still saw only darkness. In the din he realized that his helmet was malfunctioning. Still unable to move his left side, he gingerly raised his right arm, which was bent at an awkward angle and touched it to the side of his helmet. A sharp pain tore into his working arm as he did so, but the emergency release opened his helmet. The emergency power in his ship was working, dull gold lights illuminated the cockpit and what was left of the viewscreen displayed information on his wing. The large gap between cockpit edge and ground let in a few rays of sunlight through the grime.

In dismay, he saw that all five of his craft had been shot down by this foe and telemetry indicated that they were rapidly closing in.

He'd failed his god, worse, he hadn't slain any of these worms who dared to slight their better, and now as they closed in, who knew what they'd do to him, or what was left of his craft.

The last thing Kor'us saw before blacking out was a group of men from the second column moving toward him. The olive drab vehicles he'd worked so hard to destroy all pointed at him unfeelingly.

Five enemy aircraft. That's how many there were. Over three passes, the worst that had been inflicted on Don's men were a few cases of rock and dirt explosions and a couple of near-hits to the armor. The blasts from the craft, apparently larger versions of the energy staff's discharges, had missed. The larger versions were apparently just as inaccurate as the smaller, which could have been because of the circumstances, since it seemed the aircraft were unsure about how fast the convoys were moving.

The two columns had quickly scrambled to get to all five aircraft. It was risky splitting up the task group like so, but the chance to get a look at these things was too tempting to pass up. After about ten minutes, all five had been reached by various groups from the convoy, who were all busy setting up mini perimeters around the wrecks. Don and Simmons took a middle position in the plain to better coordinate the effort.

"This is Powell, we're approaching the cockpit now." the lieutenant radioed. Don could hear him barking orders to his men. "Alright, steady boys, steady, we don't know what's in here, take your positions and keep those eyes forward on there. If something jumps out, take the shots. Remember, careful observation, we don't know what we're dealing with."

After about a minute of silence, the voices picked back up "Okay, looks good. On my mark, we flip this thing over . . . Bloody Hell!" the voice said suddenly fast paced.

"Powell! What's going on?" Don asked, his finger pressed to his ear piece as he looked to the horizon where Powell and his men were.

"Hammond . . . It's a human! A human's in the cockpit!"

"What? Say again Powell, did you say a human?"

"Yes, a human, a negro gent with a tattoo on his forehead, but yes, a human!"

"Oh my god . . . Powell, is he still alive?"

"I don't know, I'll check his pulse. . . No Norwell, I'll check, you all keep your guns on him if he tries anything funny, if anyone's going to have to poke the strange human bloke, it should be me. . ."

"Keep on the radio Powell, I want it frame by frame."

"You got it, Lieutenant. Just putting my Sten on the shoulder and grabbing the old revolver, just to be safe. Okay, I'm approaching the cockpit now, this front end is buckled bad, I'm going to have to climb up into it a bit. . .Okay I'm edging my way in, close now. . .Fingers on the neck aaaaannnnddd . . . yes, I've got a pulse. This cockpit is amazing, so many lights and. . .ahh, woaaa!"

"Powell!"

"Its alright, I lost my train of thought there for a moment and almost fell in, that'd be embarrassing, anyways, yes he's alive!"

"Okay, I'm going to check with the other teams and see what going on with the other craft."

It turned out that Powell's aircraft was the best preserved one out of the bunch, funny considering it took a bazooka round right to the belly, but three other craft had their cockpits badly shredded by the machine gun fire, and the other one had its pilot impaled on several large pieces of metal. All in all, two of the pilots had been killed, and the remaining three were injured, two seriously, one with only minor shrapnel wounds. All three were unconscious. Don decided to focus recovery effort first on Powell's craft. Directing several trucks and some vehicles there, he decided to pay a personal visit.

Arriving several minutes later, the four officers met once more and began to talk, as soldiers began to pour over the ship and set up a miniature workshop to look at what could be taken in the next few minutes.

"What do we do now?" he asked Simmons, Powell, and the other officers present.

"Sir, we can't risk losing this opportunity. We've got three prisoners, two bodies, and five alien aircraft. I'd like to take as much of it back as possible." Simmons said.

"I know we came to launch an attack on a potential enemy base, but five aircraft for no casualties is a bit of a windfall. We also don't know if they radioed back to their base. I'd suggest cutting our losses before we have any and taking what we can get." Powell suggested.

Don put his hand to his chin as he though for a moment. There were so many unknowns that he wasn't sure how to proceed. They were already operating blind on this mission, and Powell was right, they'd bagged five aircraft for no casualties, that was a bargain one never got in war. On the other hand, with no clue about the enemy dispensation, he wasn't sure how'd they respond. If they left now, they'd eventually know something took out the aircraft and they'd likely beef up security, so the next time they'd come, would the enemy be stronger?

"I know cutting our losses here would be a net gain for us, but we still know nothing about what the enemy's strength is, and I don't want to bank on getting intel out of the prisoners. We have no clue what kind of culture they come from, or what their beliefs are. We might get a translator in, but we'd have no clue if the intel would be valid. They might try and suicide themselves the first chance they get , like the Japs or they could just not talk."

Pausing for a moment, he saw the three men looking at him, Simmons nodding slightly, Powell resting a finger on his temple and rubbing it gently, and Norwell just looking with a blank expression he couldn't divine.

"Maybe it was only a small garrison, maybe its just a recon wing, or maybe we might have kicked a hornet's nest. Point is we need to know. We'll go, check it out, see if we think we can take it out. Simmons, take two trucks, a squad of men, and one of the tank groups, escort the prisoners back to Roosevelt. If you can, chain up the wrecks to the vehicles, haul them back as well. The rest of us will continue forward, make the assault if possible." Don decided, then looked at Powell. "Do you agree?"

"If we can eliminate all knowledge of who we are, yes. That's the only reason I'm inclined to agree; we can't risk them knowing our capabilities."

Nodding Don gestured to the deuces. "That's why we have the thermite charges, if we need to destroy anything of ours in a hurry, that'll do it right there."

Powell nodded and began to radio his men.

The team split up, with Simmons grabbing Shepard's crew and some others to begin the salvage while the rest went forward. As the main combat group left, Don saw that they'd hogtied the prisoner and were tossing him in the back of one of the space deuces. One of the tank crews was rigging up some chain to pull the aircraft back. Five miles later, they crested another ridge, and things got hairy.

"We've got contact, multiple assumed hostiles, all in a camp of some sort." One of the scouts reported.

"What else do you see?" Don asked

"I've got a couple of towers that have what look like larger staff weapons mounted on top of them, there are several of those flyers in the camp and I can see several patrols and quite a few sentries. Only a few structure though, if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say this is some kind of forward operations post, though since we have no clue what the SOP for the aliens are, it's anyone's guess."

"Okay, wait for us, we'll approach from the ridge in the gate's direction."

After another few minutes the convoy arrived, sheltered by the large ridge, apparently the aliens hadn't posted any of their sentries to face that direction, if that indicated anything about their training or whom they were fighting though was up in the air. Crawling forward with several of the men, Don borrowed a mirror rigged to a knife with bubblegum the scouts made and stole several peeks at the camp. Sure enough there was a small fortified location of aliens. After watching the camp on his own for a bit, he called his soldiers to formulate a strategy. Once again, tearing up some prairie grass to expose the dirt, he quickly etched a rough outline of the camp with his fingers and began to formulate a plan.

"Okay, they have the numbers and air power, so if we want to do this, we need to maximize surprise for us. The trick is, we need to fight in a condition favorable to us. I don't know if those helmets help them see in the dark or something, but I don't want to engage and find out the hard way. On top of that they have their two emplaced positions with heavy support." he said drawing two small squares in the dirt.

"We need to take out the air and ground support in one go if we want to have a chance a this. What we do is this. When the attack is about to commence, the tanks will wheel up to the ridge and fire on the base, their main goal will to be to take out those two high value target groups. After that, they'll go to the wings of the base to cut off any reinforcements and to pop smoke to conceal themselves and confuse the enemy." Don indicated with several lines around the base, creating a semi circle.

"Meanwhile, the infantry will be moving through the grass prone, getting closer to the camp. We'll engage at a distance with rifles and try and pick off some of the sentries and outer soldiers. They'll be piping smoke too." The ground force was indicated with a pair of triangles.

"With all this confusion, the main attack thrust will begin. The halftracks and carriers will charge towards the camp and off load their soldiers, the ones with more close ranged weapons and combat engagement weapons. Jeeps, Greyhounds and empty tracks will circle around the camp and hose down anything they see with machine gun fire as we sweep through. The disgorged troops will hold this phase line in the camp until he rest of the infantry can link up with the rest of the group. Once that happens, the circling vehicles will slow down and sweep, making sure nothing gets out. The rest of the infantry will march through the camp and take out anything not human. . .er, I mean anything wearing their weird armor and not on our side." Don finished with several arrows.

"Any questions?"

"What's the signal to attack?" Powell asked.

"We'll attack as sunset starts to happen, it's already beginning to dip down, once the sun is halfway down the horizon we'll launch our attack on the base. With how it's falling ,the sunlight will be at our backs, which will help immensely. This might make problems for our circling forces, so make sure you have your sunglasses on and avoid blue on blue."

"What do we do if the weapons we brought don't cut it?"

"If that's the case, we'll go to plan B, hose the area down with tank shells and mortars. I'm holding off on that as our initial plan because I have no clue how delicate some of those weapons and tools can be under combat conditions or damages. We've only run limited tests on the ES-5 staff, so their tools are still an unknown, I'd like to take as much back as possible so we'll know more."

"Okay, sounds a bit risky, but with this plain we really don't have many avenues of approach. I'll get my boys ready."

Meanwhile, at the Stargate, with two unconscious prisoners and two of the least-damaged wrecks in tow, Simmons was involved in a discussion with Samuel at Roosevelt Base. Normally, they'd be paying a visit to ES-4 before dialing home, but given the salvage they had in tow, Simmons reasoned they'd likely want to take it directly to base and not drag it around in the sand.

"We've got two live captives, three bodies, and five wrecks, two of which are ready to go." he summarized. "The ones we have in tow are in one reasonable piece, though we're going to need to cutting tools to get them through, they're pretty wide, and even with the bits of the wing that broke off, we'll still need to slice a bit off."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do about that on this end, we still have a lot of tools laying around from the base construction. Let's talk a bit about these prisoners. First, have they seen the address?" Samuel asked.

"Negative. They've been unconscious and kept away from the pedestal just to be sure. The ones that are alive are hogtied in the back of a deuce."

"Casualties?"

"A few injuries, none serious, and no fatalities. The prisoners are in pretty serious condition, though."

"Bring them through, we'll let the docs take a look at them." Samuel said. "I'll send some boys through with equipment to cut the wrecks up once everyone else is here."

"Should we break off and try and rejoin the el-tee?"

"Negative, I'll need you and your boys to guard what's left of the wrecks and the salvage teams, if we're spread out over five wrecks security is already going to be a nightmare, we'll need all hands on deck for this one, Simmons."

"Sounds good Sam, what's the ETA on the gear?"

"Everyone is scrambling around now to get things loaded into the spare deuces we have around the base. I'm also sending the M25 through as well, that should be able to help with the towing. The M2 tractors are ready to go also."

"That's a lot of our assets that are going out here Sam."

"I know, but that's currently an active combat zone with an unknown number of hostiles in the area, the sooner we can get that shit broken down and stored the better. Docs tell me the medical suites are ready, send the prisoners through now along with any salvage you already pulled, the rest of the recovery team should be through in just a few minutes."

"Sounds good. You heard the man, trucks one and seven, go through!"

Simmons watched as the two deuces ramped up the stone steps to the gate and vanished with a small woosh through the gate. After a minute, Samuel came back on the radio.

"Trucks have been received, we've got the prisoners strapped to some gurneys and are wheeling them in now. We're ready on this end to send stuff through, shutting down the gate."

A loud whoosh marked the closure of the connection to Camp Roosevelt, which was punctuated by a brief moment of silence before the sound of locking chevrons interrupted the din. After several moments the gate cracked back to life. Shooting out quickly were several trucks, as well as four tracked tractors, and finally a massive wheeled vehicle with a long trailer, which slowly made its way down the stairs to the prairie. Simmons winced slightly, it was going to take some finessing to get the M25 back through, but it could be done, they'd have to potentially cover the steps with dirt to make a more gradual incline back up, though.

"All right, the two flyers we towed back are here, the other three are further out and in larger pieces, we'll work on these two first before grabbing the rest. Team one, you're on overwatch, team two, I need you to work with one of the M2s to start piling up dirt to get the M25 back up, team 3, help with the cutting. . ."

Fort Roosevelt. . .

Kor'us felt a sharp pain in his head as he stirred awake, his vision was blurry and he couldn't move his limbs. He took a breath and felt a sharp pain in his chest. He'd failed his god and was now being punished, he body broken in the cockpit of his udajeet. All he could hope was that his brothers would find his body and save the young god in his pouch, then he might find some redemption.

Yet, after several more moments, he noticed that the light in front of his eyes was brighter than the planet he'd been on earlier. Was he already entering paradise, had Ra forgiven his failure? Voices seemed to beckon him closer, he blinked more furtively trying to focus, the voices became clearer. It was then he noticed that his still functional right side could still move. As he tried to shake his arm once more though, he found it difficult to move. Curious, he tried to work his arm once more, he still had feeling, but it wasn't moving. What was this?

Closing his eyes and reopening them more intently, his vision began to clear. He realized that he was moving, he was laying back on something soft which carried him across where he was. Shaking his head slightly, the cloudiness faded and he saw that he was passing beneath several lights. Blinking, he looked to his left and right an saw that his arms were strapped to pieces of metal. Looking around he saw he was surrounded by several beings covered in white and wearing masks, they looked like humans, but what were they doing with him. Shaking, he began to groan and try and remove his shackles, when they noticed him and began to speak in a strange tongue.

"Doc. . .he's waking up!" one of the voices said.

Who were these humans, and how did they dare to take him and shackle him like a prisoner? He felt a surge of energy coursing through his body and he began to work his shackles one more. Shaking, he shouted: "Who are you? Where are my brothers?! How dare you shackle me, unhand me at once!"

"What the hell is he saying?" one of the masked figures yelled as the group jumped back with a start.

"I don't know, but we gotta sedate him, he's got a compound fracture on his left arm and at least seven broken ribs."

Kor'us didn't know what these words meant, all he knew was he had to get free. The metal was weak, he flexed his still working arm and pulled the shackle closer to himself, he felt its bonds weaken.

"Shit, he's going to break out of that strap!"

"Get in there now, 30 ccs of penathol! Do it!"

He felt a sharp jab in his neck and a warmth flowed over him, he felt tired, after a few moments, he began to slacken at his grip, perhaps rest would be good. . . NO! These humans were trying to trick him, befuddle his senses somehow, he had to get free. Yelling he renewed his effort to break free.

"Fuck, he's still going at it!"

"What the hell, its been almost a minute now." Kor'us felt another sharp jab in his neck, this time the warmth overtook him more than before and he slackened his pull on the straps. He felt tired so tired.

"Tell Agent Marcus that putting the strap around the neck was a good idea after all." was the last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep once more.


	17. Excrement meets rotary cooling device

Chapter 14

The next few hours went by painfully slow for Don and the men of the assault team. In hindsight, he realized that going to a world where they didn't know the length of day and setting a deadline for sunset might not have been the smartest move. Still, the sun was gradually beginning to dip down over the horizon, which meant that the time of the attack would soon be arriving.

The men had been busy getting into position ahead of time; the vehicles were positioned behind the ridge. The advance squad had spent the past hour and a half slowly crawling through the thigh high grass towards the camp. While the earpieces were assumed to be a secure method of communication, Don had ordered the group to keep chatter to a minimum, less out of concern for interception and more for keeping the men quiet while they waited. They may have been fighting humans, but he wasn't sure if they had any special equipment which might allow them to see or hear the men. That might mean the attack he planned could be for naught if the enemy could see the men through the grass, but using the information he had and the knowledge they'd gained in several years of war on Earth, it was the best idea he had.

His main worry was that other flyers might pass by overhead and discover his men; the camp they were preparing to hit had several wings of the aircraft on the ground. He had most of the men on the team looking skyward for any possible threat, but fortunately, none seemed to materialize and soon the sun began its final descent over the horizon. Nodding silently to Powell, he started to radio orders.

"Alright, it's time, check your gear one last time and get ready. Forward team; remember to engage once the tanks open fire." He said as he hopped into the back of the halftrack with several other soldiers.

"Remember, we want to take back as much salvage as possible, so try and avoid using explosives unless you absolutely have to. Good luck and Godspeed men." he added.

"A bit punctual, don't you think?" Powell asked looking up from his Universal Carrier.

"Eh, I'm not one for speeches; I tend to leave those to the Professor."

Shrugging his shoulders, Powell looked forward "Can't fault you on that." Crouching down, he talked with his men. "We'll follow the Yanks' lead and engage when they start this bout. Watch your fire and keep the sun to your backs if you can. Remember. . ."

"Careful observation, lieutenant." the carrier's driver noted dryly.

"Quite right!" Powell smirked.

Don felt a rumble as the half-track began to slowly move up the small ridge, the four tanks with the group were already ahead and beginning to crest the ridge. Looking around, he saw the other vehicles were beginning to do likewise, with the lighter Jeeps and Greyhounds nearing the crest with the tanks. The sun cast a faint red haze on the ground ahead as it began to dip more behind their backs. Unslinging his Thompson, he gripped it tightly in front of him as he watched the tanks make their final ascent. Around him the men were doing likewise, gripping their rifles and staring ahead, a few crossed themselves, but most just held firm and looked ahead.

The four tanks vanished over the top of the ridge, and Don gave the signal.

"Engage!"

All he heard was a loud rumble as the four tanks fired simultaneously, a half second later he heard four distant explosions. Already the tank commanders were radioing their situations.

"Tower One down."

"Got a hit on the grounded flyers."

"Scratch two more flyers."

"Aw, shit."

A loud explosion, followed a by three smaller explosions echoed across the field. As the halftrack finished its climb, Don saw a column of smoke rising into the sky as the he heard machine guns rattling and rifles cracking across the field. As he reached the top of the ridge, he was greeted by the sight of the battle.

The two towers had collapsed, and he saw that the tanks were now shelling the remaining flyers that were on the ground. Looking to his right, he saw that one of the Shermans was a wreck. Angry orange flames and opaque smoke bellowed out of the twisted metal chassis. A charred body was slumped over the cupola, unmoving. In front of him, he saw soldiers popping up and down like prairie dogs across the grass, rising to snap several shots at the enemy then dropping back down and changing position. Orange energy bolts were erupting by the dozens from the enemy camp, slicing through empty air where his men stood and dropped to avoid being hit. He saw several strike one of the Cromwells, but it kept moving, its main gun cracking as it lobbed another shell into the camp.

Meanwhile the Greyhounds and Jeeps had raced ahead, scything their machine guns across the camp; they began to drive in one big circle, moving to avoid the shots that were lancing out at them. Small formations of enemy soldiers fell as they clumped together, only to be mowed down.

In fact the enemy's response seemed to be rather strange, with the amount of fire his men were pouring onto the camp, he'd expected the enemy to scatter around the camp to make each individual more difficult to hit, but instead they looked like they were trying to form old fashioned firing lines. It didn't make sense, why the hell would such an advanced enemy use such an outdated tactic?

"Maybe we took out their senior leader in the first strike." he thought "This just screams junior officer not knowing what the hell to do." As the halftracks and carriers crossed the plain and approached the camp, the soldiers began to add their own fire, be it from their rifles or the built-in machine guns that the vehicles carried. "At this rate, we might not even need to dismount if they insist on clumping up like that."

Just then though, several bolts tore into one of the circling jeeps, its front end igniting as it came to a screeching halt. Black smoke erupted from the jeep as its gunner was thrown free and landed twenty feet away in a crumpled heap. More fire began to tag some of the Greyhounds, one of which seemed to lose two of its wheels.

"On fire, on fire, driver's hit!" Don heard over the radio.

Chancing a glance behind, Don saw the cupola of the Cromwell open up as the commander and gunner leap out of the vehicle, which was starting to resemble Swiss cheese. Dozens of holes appeared all along the vehicle's armor, with sections of the front seemingly melted away. It hadn't been wrecked like the Sherman had, but he could see smoke starting to rise from the top and from some of the holes. He saw a third man attempting to climb out when he refocused his attention back on the camp in front of him, by now the armored vehicles were near the camp, far ahead of the tanks.

"Dismount in ten seconds!" He ordered. "Spread out and find cover or go prone. Do not present a large target!" Several soldiers stood up and fired a few more shots at the camp.

Taking deep breaths, time seemed to slow around him, his heart beat faster in his chest. At ES-5 he hadn't had time to think and move, they just had to react; here though, they were leaping feet first into a fight with an unknown force, they'd already lost several men, and who knew how many more would die at the end of this.

Five seconds.

He hoisted his gun.

Four seconds.

The energy bolts seemed to shift focus on the rapidly approaching vehicles.

Three seconds.

He saw one of the British soldiers get struck in the chest and fly back off his carrier.

Two seconds.

Several men shot rifle grenades as the approaching camp; he agreed, at that point, extra softening up was necessary.

One second.

Placing a hand on the side, he felt the halftrack rapidly decelerate.

"Let's move, move move!" He yelled into his ear piece as he vaulted over the side of the halftrack onto the prairie below. He still carried some momentum from the vehicle but compensated and lunged forward several steps, before turning sideways and aiming his gun at the camp.

Several warriors were aiming their staffs at the convoy letting loose as many bolts as they could. Several small explosions tore through that line of enemies as the rifle grenades made their impact, throwing them back as their bodies were riddled with shrapnel. Yet there were more warriors still there, firing on the men.

Dropping to a knee, he shouldered the Thompson and fired a burst at one of the warriors. Don felt several small thuds of recoil in his shoulder as he shot at the Eagles. He once again saw several sparks dance across the chest of one of the warriors as it stumbled back, but didn't fall. Furious, he emptied the clip at the enemy group, only to see none of them fall.

"Fuck, still not working." he thought as he grabbed another clip and began to try and advance. As he did so, more soldiers dismounted and began firing on the enemy, Garands and Lee Enfields cracked at the foe, with the occasional BAR rattling as well. He was relieved to see several of the warriors fall as the rifles boomed over the din of the fight.

"Cover and advance!" he ordered as he and several others made a final push into the camp area. The area as a whole was a wreck; dozens of tents were set up along the area, each providing an obscuring view of the area. Some were knocked over, a few were shredded, but many more still stood. A bit further into the camp, the smoldering wrecks of the aircraft littered the ground, the bodies of several of the enemy littered the ground nearby, their forms in various states of being mangled from the explosions and the shrapnel.

Already he could also see the prone figures, warriors cut down by the combine fire of the assault team. But there were still foes inside the camp, he could see the warriors running to meet the squad, their staves raised, spewing the orange bolts of energy. As Don threw himself on the ground, he could smell the faint stench of ozone from where the bolts flew past where he stood.

The enemy closer now, he snapped several more blasts at them, and was finally rewarded with the sight of one of the enemy warriors falling over and not rising. Yet even with that victory the furious snap of the rifles of the other soldiers reminded him of the efforts of his own gun. Rising to one knee, he shouldered his Thompson and withdrew his revolver. Moving with the rest of the squad, they continued their advance though the camp, intent on finishing the sweep and ending the engagement once and for all.

Rounding a tent, he encountered one of the warriors, looking dazed from an earlier explosion. Aiming his gun, he was surprised as the warrior suddenly jerked to the side and began, sprinting at Don faster than he could compensate. The metal clad collided with him in a tangled mess of limbs as the two fell to the ground, Don's Thompson flying to the side as the strap slid away from his shoulder. Feeling several heavy blows impact his chest as a mailed fist whaled on him, Don flailed at the warrior, trying to land a solid punch, but only feeling sharp stabs as his fist ricocheted off metal. With luck though, he contorted his legs and managed to push off from the warrior, rolling across several feet of grass. Twisting around, he snatched his revolver from his side and snapped a shot at the warrior, whose face collapsed as the thick slug smashed through his skull.

Springing to his feet, Don saw the rest of the soldiers streaming into the camp, the rifle cracks began to become far fewer as they finished the sweep. He labored to breath as he attempted to keep pace with his men, fortunately, they were already at the edge of the camp, and the still circling vehicles hadn't seen anyone attempting to flee from the location. Relaying orders, his men made one final move through the camp looking for survivors, but found none.

Taking several more sharp gulps of air, he surveyed the area. Smoke was rising from the destroyed human and alien vehicles and all across the expanse, the dead littered the area. First priority would be to assess their own wounded and dead and make sure they left no evidence of their arrival to this world.

But after that, it would be time to collect the spoils.

For the medics, there were only a couple wounded, though those wounds tended to be fairly severe, usually it was varying degrees of burns on extremities. Don himself was lucky; the medic thought that he might have a couple cracked ribs, but nothing broken. Unfortunately though, the alien weapons weren't like bullets, a couple soldiers had taken hits to their center of mass and were killed instantly, including the one British soldier who'd been blasted back from his carrier. As the medic wrapped Don's torso in thick gauze, he mentioned that the doctors who'd dissected Donowitz's body mentioned that the blasts caused massive internal trauma due to the heat of the weapon.

Several men passed with covered stretchers, walking towards the deuce they'd designated for carrying the dead. So far, it looked as though they'd lost the entire Sherman crew whose tank had been blown up, in addition to the crew of the destroyed jeep. The Cromwell driver also hadn't made it. On the ground they suffered two additional casualties, the British soldier, and another American who died in the sweep of the camp.

As he saw that last bit of this recovery, Don took a painful sigh and looked down.

"You made the right call, you know." he heard a voice to his side. Looking over, he saw Powell standing next to him.

"Did I?" he wheezed. "We basically fought them in a way that played to their style."

"We had no idea that they'd fight like it was the Napoleonic War, Hammond, we're not exactly used to fighting in great battle lines anymore. Although, that circle you had going with the machine guns worked rather well."

"But if we'd been smarter, we could have had marksmen all along the ridge line and have picked them off. When I made the plan, I was expecting them to scatter and hide out all through the camp and make us work at it, not just line up how they did." He finished with a painful intake of breath, "Maybe we'd have had fewer bodies if I'd done that."

"You can't hold that to yourself."

"Powell, look at all this!" he gestured to the large group of soldiers then to his chevrons. "I was an NCO the whole damn war. I represented the men and I gave them the orders, but the plans, the strategies, I left that to the officers and only gave a little advice here and there. I've had men die under my command before, but this is the first time I've been the one solely responsible for things, not just executing the orders or reacting like on ES-5."

"You've done a good job so far Hammond, remember we had no intelligence about these beings before this expedition, we only just learned they were humans a few hour ago. We're facing something we've never seen before. All in all, we got a lot out of today that we wouldn't have otherwise. We'll take this and make sure that next time we're even deadlier!"

Smacking a fist against the side of the jeep, Powell stood up. "So what's the next move?"

"We start grabbing everything that's not nailed down. The weapons, the crates, even some bits of the aircraft if we can manage. Anything that might prove useful. We'll probably want to take as many bodies back as possible also, good for figuring out if there's any difference between them and us, anything that might be useful to fighting them." Looking at the smoldering tank in the distance for a second before he looked down, he continued, "We also need to make sure we leave as little evidence as possible that we were here. We'll need to plant some thermite charges on the wrecks; we'll probably want to burn anything of the enemies that we can't take. No sense in leaving perfectly functional equipment."

"Makes sense, I'll have the boys start offloading the charges and start loading up those bodies."

The men began to move in a small frenzy of activity, one of the medics had Don stay close to the jeep for that portion of the mission so he wouldn't agitate his ribs any further. Looking at his men work, he felt small winces of annoyance at not being able to get his hand dirty with the rest of them, but he knew doctors' orders were something one shouldn't ignore.

As the soldiers busied themselves, Powell began to examine bodies for retrieval. He was actually the first to notice something off about the bodies; they really hadn't fiddled with the 5 they'd already taken back, given the injuries of the pilots and the general mess the two corpses were in. This was the first real chance to examine a fresh, relatively undamaged body.

Looking at the chainmail, Powell noticed that there was a weak spot in the armor there. Rather than forming one solid piece like the others, it was more a drape that covered the wearer's stomach.

"What have we here?" he thought as he knelt down to examine it closer. Pulling back the drape, he saw a large X-shaped opening in the dead man's stomach, like some kind of wound that hadn't closed.

"What in the hell?" he thought as he pulled out a knife to look closer, pulling back one of the flaps of skin, it looked like the opening went right into the dead man's abdomen. Curious he turned to call out to Don and the medic to take a look.

Just as he finished shouting, the alien parasite nestled inside the pouch noticed the presence of a host. Weakened by its incubator's sudden demise, and operating purely on instinct, it launched itself out of its former home and attached itself to Powell's neck, slicing away at flesh and burrowing as quickly as it could. The Lieutenant made an equally instinctual slap to his neck when he felt a painful biting, but his palm came away empty, and strangely the pain faded as quickly as it appeared. Standing up woozily, he saw that Don and the medic had arrived.

"What'd you see, Powell?"

"See? Oh yes, I found a strange cut on this dead bloke, I remember we didn't see anything like this on the Roswell aliens, and since these chaps look human, I thought it was curious."

The medic, taking out his tools quickly began to insert a several metal probes into the opening, using tweezers to peel back the flesh coverings.

"Well, I have no clue what this is, but it isn't a random wound, it's too clean. Whatever made this, it happened long before this man died."

"Weird, we're about to start loading the bodies, I'll have everyone check if they have similar wounds."

"Sounds good, I'll start coordinating with my lads to get things squared away." Powell said, rising from the body, as he turned though, no one noticed a strange silver-yellow flash in his eyes as the parasite firmly nestled itself in the spine of Lieutenant Powell.

As he finished walking towards a group of British soldiers who were loading one of the deuces with looted equipment, the Goa'uld in Powell became fully cognizant of its surroundings. Though still hazy from its sudden departure, it noticed that something was off. As its vision cleared, it noticed that dozens of Jaffa warriors were lying dead, and these . . . humans were picking off gear like scavengers! How dare they defile their god's warriors and to say nothing about their theft of their divine instruments! Angry, but still half dazed, it stumbled over to the universal carrier by a deuce and climbed in. The host's former memories swelled the creature, the metal rod it was next to; it was some kind of weapon of destruction. Yes, that would do well to punish the fools.

Vision still black at its side, the Goa'uld gripped the Bren gun and pulled the trigger, hosing down the back of the deuce with machine gun fire. The soldiers loading the back had no clue what happened as crimson geysers erupted from their bodies. Four men were dead before the machine gun ran out of ammunition. Squeezing the trigger several more times, the creatures balled its fists and smacked the gun aside, "Useless contraption!"

"Powell! What the fuck are you doing!?" it heard a voice yell. Turning it saw a pair of men running towards him; the lead mad had a small cylinder in his hand, leveling it squarely at the creature. Stopping about twenty feet away, he saw him wince in pain with each rise of his chest.

"Powell. . .Yes, that's what this host's name was." it said as it made the eyes of its host glow. "But no longer, now his body is mine, and I've punished the fools who defiled the bodies of your god's servants!" the voice with an unusual bass echo to it boomed over the din, it saw several more people running towards them.

"All trespassers will pay for their treachery!" it finished as it reached for a similar cylinder to its side. All of the sudden, the creature felt a powerful hammer blow strike its chest. Looking down, it saw a hole in the middle of its torso. Still standing he felt two more hammer blows against its midsection as it fell backwards off the carrier. . .

Don felt his chest was on fire as he rounded the carrier with his pistol drawn. Powell. . .Well whatever was claiming to be Powell, was lying on its back; three large holes were visible in the uniform as it rapidly stained red. Leveling his gun at its head as best he could as his hands shook; he half shouted "What are you?"

Coughing, the figure looked up at him "It wasn't me." he said as he coughed up a large gout of blood "Don, it wasn't me. . .it wasn't me." The body went limp as his head fell to the side. Kneeling as best he could, Don reached out and closed the man's eyes. Shaking his head, he began to bark orders "Get his body loaded up." Opening up his radio, he spoke. "Handle the corpses with extreme care! Something from one of them took over Powell, it opened fire on us!"

Just as he finished the order, he noticed something move out of the corner of his eye, looking back at the body, he saw something dropping out of the back of Powell's neck, something long and white. Whatever it was it was writhing and twisting itself into a coil as it left. Eyes widening, Don quickly flipped his revolver around and brought the butt down on what he thought was the thing's head. Seeing it twitch, he smacked it three more times, then pulled out his combat knife and impaled the thing, holding it arm's length. It looked like a cross between a finned snake and a worm. The head was badly messed up, but he could make out a long toothy mouth.

"What the hell?" he thought as he looked at the creature. Opening up the radio, he started talking, keeping his eyes on the creature.

"Have any of you seen a weird finned snake/worm creature?" he asked cautiously. The radio was in a state of confusion for a minute as soldiers asked for clarification, until suddenly he heard a yelp from one man, followed by heavy breathing for several seconds.

"Holy shit. A worm thing just leap out of the belly of one of the guys we killed. I. . .I smacked it with my rifle, what's going on?!"

His breathing quickening, he slowly stood up and gazed across the camp, as he looked at the mess of bodies that surrounded himself and his men, Don realized the danger they were in. Thinking quickly, he shouted order into his earpiece: "New SOP, affix bayonets or get a knife out. Everyone, put two bullets in these bodies, one in the head, and one in the pouch. Get a knife in the belly and make sure if anything's in there, it's dead!"

The next minute was a frenzy of movement as soldiers whipped out their knives and brought them down with fleshy smacks into the bellies of their fallen foes. Gunshots rang out as men made sure to follow Don's orders regarding the bodies. "We won't want to stay out in the open for long, in fifteen minutes we move out, grab what you can!"

After the deed was done, the men busied themselves with the grisly job of loading as many bodies as they could, along with the equipment they could carry.

The next fifteen minutes saw soldiers assembling large stacks of the staff weapons, along with other odds and ends they found around the camp, crates and boxes were loaded up, along with parts they thought looked useful from the flyers. Don was surprised, apart from a few badly damaged crates, the tents and the flyer and tower wrecks, they'd manage to pull most of the useful looking equipment from the base. What was left was arranged in several small piles, where thermite charges attached to timers were affixed to them. The same went for the human wrecks that littered the area. Twenty minutes after Don gave his order, the convoy was cresting the ridge back to the stargate, his jeep being the last one to vanish. Just as it dipped over, he saw several bright flashes as the charges activated, and burned what was left at the site.

Leaning back, he took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, his job wasn't done yet. Opening up his radio, he called Simmons.

"Simmons! Is everything almost done on your end?"

"Just about sir, we already sent back several wrecks. We're just about to send the last shipment through now. We . . . er . . . heard what was going on sir. Is everything alright?"

"I don't know, listen is Sam there?"

"No, he went back with the last shipment."

"Okay, when you go back, I need you to relay a message to him, tell him to prep the base, full containment and quarantine protocols, effective immediately"

"Sir? Full containment AND quarantine?"

"Yes, get them on that Simmons, we'll be back at the gate in about half an hour."

There was a short pause, before Simmons spoke "You've got it sir!"

As they drove, he heard other soldiers talk over the radio:

"Full containment and quarantine? What's that mean?"

"What's going on, sir?"

"Sir, is everything alright?"

"It's fine men," he radioed to the convoy, "I'm just having Simmons tell the base to be ready to receive a lot of foreign biological material, we'll need to screen it and make sure there are no nasties in it, apart from the potential parasites who can take over our bodies."

"Oh . . . That makes sense." he heard a general sense of agreement from the soldiers.

The convoy was mostly silent as they made their way back to the gate. In no time they arrived, the men activated the gate and one by one, the large convoy disappeared into the gate and left ES-2 behind them. . .

Several hours later, on ES-2

Master Bra'tac of Chulak led the small group of Jaffa forward. Their mission was to assault one of the Horus Guard encampments nearby. Each member of the group was armed with as many weapons as they could carry; staff weapons, Tok'Kals, Zat'nik'tels, a few Tacluchnatagamuntoron and the group was also pulling three Ma'tok cannons on wheels. They moved slowly up the ridge ahead of the camp, the two dozen soldiers all friends and former students of Bra'tac, with two exceptions: Teal'c and Arkad, both of whom were currently still pupils of his. The mission was highly risky, but the hope was that a surprise strike behind the main battle lines dozens of kilometers away would cause confusion among the ranks of Horus guards and result in a rapid redeployment of forces, which in turn would allow Apophis's soldiers to surge ahead and claim the world for their master.

This campaign had been progressing nicely, while Ra was the supreme lord, even he was not immune from the occasional dispute from his other lords. Currently, he and Apophis were waging battle over a trio of newly discovered worlds. Privy to more information, Bra'tac knew that the fights on the other two worlds fared more poorly than the battle here. He hoped they might pull a victory here and spare the lives of more of his soldiers from a costly and protracted engagement.

Teal'c, who had gone ahead to scout, came running back. "Master Bra'tac, we are too late." he said.

"Too late? What do you mean, Teal'c?" Bra'tac asked.

"The entire encampment bears signs of battle. There are no corpses, and it appears to have been looted. Apart from several wrecks of metal and scorched tents, there is little left there."

Bra'tac frowned "Another of Lord Apophis' forces?" he asked, unsure if his lord had ordered another attack without notifying him, it wouldn't be the first time, although such incidents were rare. After all, as First Prime, he was generally privy to the vast majority of fleet and troop movements

"I do not believe so. Some of the damage ... it is not of Goa'uld weaponry."

That got Bra'tac's attention. "Show me, Teal'c!" he commanded. Moving as fast as they could, the group arrived at the battle site. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a faint orange glow over the area.

As they moved through the camp, thoughts swirled in Bra'tac's mind. An enemy that would challenge Goa'uld and Jaffa ... Could it be?

Moving through the camp, he saw that Teal'c was indeed not exaggerating his story, there was little left there only smoldering wrecks, and tents. The only hints of something peculiar were strange metal tubes that littered the ground. Picking one up, it felt light in his hand, smelling it, it had a strange aroma about it. Curious, he casually picked up several more of the things, as his men did likewise.

"What should we make of this, Master Bra'tac?" Teal'c asked him, appearing at his side, fiddling with one of the strange tubes.

He had to think quickly. "I will inform Apophis of this. It may please him to hear that another opposes Ra. But do not speak of this to others. There is no sense in spreading rumors and speculation!" He said loudly to the other men, who simply nodded in agreement and deference to their elder.

As the group scanned the site, Bra'tac noticed one thing in particular, a hint of reflection lying on the ground next to what his trained eye recognized as signs of a struggle. He picked it up. It appeared to be a necklace, with a square tag of metal attached. There were characters embossed on the metal, an unknown language. Holding it in front of him for several seconds, a million thoughts coursed through his mind as the necklace dangled in front of him.

Before anyone else noticed, Bra'tac slipped the necklace into his armor, making a silent vow to himself as he did so.

Whoever had done this, whoever these people were, he would find them, and he would confront them.

And then, then he would ask for their aid in freeing his people.

Several Hours Earlier: Camp Roosevelt

The jeep rumbled as it descended the camp into the main embarkation chamber of Camp Roosevelt. Already, he saw soldiers milling around outside their vehicles, and starting to unload everything. Coming to a halt, he quickly got out of the jeep and propped himself against the side.

"Is that everyone, Don?" He heard Sam ask over the radio.

"Yeah. . .Yeah that's everyone."

"Okay. . . Men, NOW!"

From behind several of the armored doors, a squad of soldiers rushed into the chamber, their rifles raised. Above them on the gangway, another couple squads rushed along the platforms, the guns aimed downwards.

Panicked, the soldiers from the away team started yelling, some raised their guns, others stood confused, over the din the soldiers rushing in were shouting:

"ON THE GROUND!"

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!

"STAND DOWN AND DON'T MOVE!"

"DON'T MOVE!"

"HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS!"

"What the hell?"

"The fucks going on?"

"What's this shit?!"

"Everyone! STAND DOWN!" Don shouted, managing to get everyone's attention. "I mean, away team, stand down and comply. Now."

"Sir? What is this shit?" One of the men asked again.

"Full containment and quarantine, anything and everything potentially exposed to dangerous alien contamination is is to be locked down until in can be deemed safe, and that includes us. Hell, especially us. We're dealing with some kind of parasitic alien that can take over our bodies; we were all in that camp for a while before Powell went all nuts, who knows if someone else got nabbed. We're taking all precautions here men, I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier, but I didn't want to chance an alien doing something while we were gone. Now everyone, put your guns on the ground, and line up single file, hands on the head."

Reluctantly, he saw his men slowly bend down and drop their rifles, pistols, grenades, knives and other tools and they slowly filed into one line on the other side of the chamber, under the careful eyes of their fellow soldiers. Counting heads, he saw everyone was in place.

Setting his Thompson on the ground slowly, he approached one of the men, one step at a time, and handed him his revolver butt first.

Over the intercom, he heard Sam giving orders: "Alright everyone, we've prepared one of the warehouses as makeshift holding quarters. It's basically bunks with scrap metal walls. Single file, we'll be moving in groups. The teams that went through earlier and helped handle stuff have already been placed in the holding facility."

Taking a breath, he heard Sam's voice firm up slightly as he relayed the next part of his instructions.

"The gate will be on 24 hour watch. I already radioed Earth and told them the situation and Lieutenant Hammond's invocation of containment and quarantine procedures. All gate travel is suspended. Once we're all settled in, Earth will dial in and keep a permanent wormhole active so nothing can try and get out. Any attempts to travel through the gate until that point will be met with lethal force, no questions asked, no exceptions."

Pausing, he added,

"Until further notice, Camp Roosevelt is on lockdown."


	18. Lockdown: The first 28 hours

Chapter 15

Heliopolis Base

Catherine had been on Heliopolis for a few days, spending time with Ernest and Samuel (once Ernest had processed the change of situation, things had cooled down and they were able to behave like the professionals they were, and burying herself in work was how she was dealing with the miscarriage she'd suffered for apparently no reason, although she secretly believed the stress of transit through the wormhole multiple times had done the deed) and providing her insights on the castle. It had been a little rough; some of the men there, scientist and soldier alike, questioned what place a woman had on the base. They didn't exactly hide their displeasure and disapproval, either. It had somewhat slackened off when Ernest had mentioned that she was the reason the entire project existed; without her suggestion to use direct current, it was unlikely they could have powered the gate successfully and safely. And Samuel had used his position to make it clear that she was to be treated like any other professional they brought in. Now, though, what was meant to be a dream come true, was becoming more of a nightmare.

Catherine stared at her father. "What do you mean, lockdown?"

Paul sighed. "Until Camp Roosevelt is certain that they don't have any additional xenoparasites infesting people, no gate travel is allowed from it. And, since Ernest was on Camp Roosevelt to talk to the prisoners the expedition took, and Samuel actually went through, that includes them."

"But Ernest never went through to ES-2!"

"But several men came back from ES-2 before they learned the situation. It's possible one or more of them could have infested during the transfer of the prisoners and bodies, and the parasite or parasites may have jumped hosts. It should only be a few days, a week or two at the most, before they've cleared everyone and lifted the quarantine."

Catherine crossed her arms and and narrowed her eyes. "No! I won't be away from my husband for weeks while he's poked and prodded because there's some small chance that he's been taken over by an alien!"

Paul shook his head. "Catherine, listen to me! If the xeno that took over Powell is any indication of the norm for the species, then we could be looking at dealing with an extremely hostile, potentially even outright homicidal threat that could be masquerading as anyone! We can't risk compromising the entire program like that!"

"Then let me join them! Let me go through!"

"No! I'm not going to let you put yourself at risk Catherine! And I'm certain Ernest and Samuel wouldn't want you to do so either."

"This is ridiculous dad, I can make my own decisions!"

"Catherine, I want you to be safe, that's all!"

She glared at him for a moment, then walked out of the room silently. Moving through the corridors she found her way back to her quarters and sat on the bed, clenching her fists. She knew her father was right about his concerns, but after having to deal with being separated from Ernest when he was stuck on Heliopolis, she wasn't eager to repeat that experience again.

After sitting for several more minutes, she heard commotion outside, looking out she saw the various medical personnel attached to Heliopolis gathering in one of the smaller messes. Curious, she entered.

". . .And so that' the situation, Earth will be sending a load of machines through in several hours to Fort Roosevelt. We're going to go on ahead and prep the area for their arrival and assist in maintaining the quarantine. Furthermore, the doctors at Fort Roosevelt are requesting that we prepare for a potential triage. Any questions?"

"Why do more people need to go through, don't they already have doctors there?"

"They do and they've started the initial examinations, but given the situation of potential parasites, they want some outside medical personnel to go in and take over for them. It's not ideal and opens the door to some more risk, but now that proper protocol should have been initiated, we can take over at a smaller risk to ourselves."

The small crowd murmured for several more minutes before falling silent.

"Okay, meet in the embarkation room in fifteen minutes, make sure you have what you need, but try and pack light"

With that the collection of doctors and nurses scattered, the doctors in particular seemed to have a lot on their minds.

This gave Catherine an idea though. Stepping out of the room, she made her way to the laundry area of Heliopolis. While Area 52 handled a lot of sanitation and shipping, they still found it necessary to make an area to handle smaller loads of clothes and lines so they didn't have to bother Earth for fresh shirts and underpants as well as uniforms. Stepping into the loud hot room, she scanned the various racks until she found what she needed.

Yanking a plastic wrapped package she stole away to her quarters and quickly began throwing books into a bag, as well as several extra cloths. Opening the package, she extracted a pristine khaki nurse uniform. The nurses on Earth wore more traditional white uniforms, but since the nurses on off-site bases were expected to respond to potential situations on different worlds, they used the more versatile khaki uniform.

Quickly slipping into the uniform, she grabbed her bag and sprinted to the embarkation room, slipping on the cap completing her disguise.

She just hoped that it would be enough. . .

Meanwhile, Paul was finishing a conversation with President Truman via earpiece. It would be the last time they could connect with Earth until the situation resolved.

"Have the personnel at Fort Roosevelt learned anything else about the aliens?"

"So far no, its only been a couple hours, but apart from an autopsy on one of the snake like aliens they haven't learned much apart from the basic internal structure of these creatures. They'll keep Earth informed about this as it develops, as well as the medical team we're sending through on this end. Once the team goes through, I'll go back to Earth and monitor everything there."

After a pause the president spoke.

"Okay sounds good, now the final obvious question, what's going to happen if the base is compromised and there's no way to extract personnel? We can't just leave a base with all our technology there for the aliens to find, especially with people who know where Earth is."

"Assuming Agent Marcus isn't compromised, he has his orders on how to proceed, we're also sending him written instructions as well. If he is, we'll implement Contingency B."

"Are you sure you'll be able to do that? If the base is compromised they'll likely put the Portcullis over the gate, then it won't be able to get through."

"If that happens, Area 52 has been authorized to use the one staff weapon we have at the base to fire through to Fort Roosevelt. We've ran some test firings with it and it turns out that on high settings, the material we used for the Portcullis will melt down under a number of firings. So we'll melt the Portcullis and send Contingency B through."

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

"I couldn't agree more, Mr. President."

"Well, good luck and Godspeed Paul, we'll fill Atlee in on this as soon as possible. We've got our meeting with the Commonwealth ambassadors next week. . .This will make things interesting."

As the president signed off and the gate deactivated Paul looked down, out of the corner of his eye, he was that some of the medical personnel were starting to assemble. Good.

Examining several files, he began to organize them on the table. New personnel dockets, equipment requisitions, assignments, exploration orders. All were pushed to the side as several new pieces of paper were placed down. Turning to the assembled men in the area, they began to brainstorm various new policies that the SGI would have to implement in the event of infiltration by these aliens. So busy were they, that Paul hardly noticed the gate activate as the medical personnel began to embark to Fort Roosevelt. Looking up, he walked over to the microphone and activated the intercom.

"Good luck to all of you going to Fort Roosevelt, I hope this will be brief, watch over our men there."

The various personnel looked and nodded as they began to filter through. Paul watched them as they left. As a large group of nurses prepared to file through, he squinted his eyes. One looked familiar. Before stepping through, she turned around and looked up at the booth defiantly ... and Paul found himself looking into the eyes of his daughter.

Scrambling, he slammed a fist on the intercom.

"Catherine! Don't. . ." was all he managed to say as she quickly stepped through the gate.

"go" he said softly as he stood up straight.

Breathing shallowly, he began to silently hope and pray that neither neither Contingency Protocol would need to be activated.

Temporary holding quarters, Camp Roosevelt. ES-3.

Three Hours into Lockdown

Ernest had been utterly shocked when, in the middle of examining the armor from one of the corpses, it had been announced that Camp Roosevelt was under lockdown, effective immediately. He'd immediately gone off to the temporary holding quarters being set up, hoping to get some insight into what had caused the base to invoke that particular procedure from the people involved.

After being cleared through by a large group of guards at one of the warehouses two entrances, and getting Agent Marcus's blessing, he'd managed to get in.

The entire inside had rapidly been converted. Large sheets of corrugated metal, originally slated for the next round of building, had been nailed into wooden poles and used to erect improvised cells. Sheets with a small hole cut into the bottom and a small window in the middle were used as doors. There were no roofs, on the walkways at the top of the warehouse, soldiers patrolled with their weapons drawn, ready to fire down into and of the cells if need be. Ernest was amazed that this was all assembled in roughly an hour, but with the somewhat haphazard layout and spacing of the cells, he realized that the job was far from perfect.

Listening for almost fifteen minutes, he almost couldn't believe his ears as Don explained the situation. Alien parasites using humans as hosts, with the ability to take over bodies …

"I don't believe it." he muttered.

"You should, Doctor. Smashed one of the fuckin' worms' heads in myself." Don said. "I don't have a reason to lie about that."

"I know you're telling the truth; it's just … it's very difficult to wrap my head around."

"Tell me about it, I mean … Christ, one minute he was fine, the next he was on that machine gun. Ernest, no matter what, we've gotta make sure no one else got taken."

Simmons spoke up, talking from the cell next to him, given their ranks, they both got individual cells rather than having to share. "How the fuck are they going to go about this? I mean, how are they gonna make sure we haven't been infested? Are they going to cut our stomachs open, poke around in there, look for a hidden pouch? Cut our necks open, search in there?"

"The thing dropped out of Powell's neck. I already passed that on to the medical personnel, told them to look for any sign of an entry point there." Hammond said. "Presumably, if that's the case, all they'd have to do is check our necks for wounds … I really hope it's that simple."

"However they do it, they should test the fuckin' niggers first!" A voice called out from one of the cells across from Don's. Looking over, Ernest saw the face of a tall, sandy haired soldier.

"And why the hell is that?" The voice of Staff Sergeant Shepard demanded, and then Ernest heard a fist hit the metal. It turned out the cells were next to each other.

"Who's that?" Ernest whispered.

"Corporal Jacob Douglas, he and a few others are part of a group that was very vocal about Shepard and his crew being here. I don't have proof, but all those pranks on Shepard and his men, I'm pretty sure it's been Douglas and his group."

Hearing another loud bang of fist to metal, they looked over at the cells.

"I'll ask you again, why the hell should we be the first round of guinea pigs?!"

"Because, Sergeant, didn't you notice anything about those bodies we dragged back here? Every one of those bastards was a goddamn black." The corporal smacked the wall, a metallic echo bounced around the cells. "That tells me that the snakes like their meat dark, probably took a liking to you and your men. Means you're the most likely to be one of them. The one that got Powell was probably just desperate, took what it could get."

"If you're gonna make an accusation, go ahead and make it, corporal."

"Fine. You're a fuckin' snakehead nigger. There, you happy?"

Don looked out and smacked a fist against his door, getting the pairs attention.

"Sergeant, Corporal..." he half cautioned, half yelled from across his cell.

"Sir, please, let me handle this. The corporal here doesn't have a problem with you. He has one with me, my men, and my skin." Shepard said

"Both of you, stand down." Don said calmly.

"No, sir. I can't do that, sir. Not when the lives of my brothers are at risk." Douglas said. "See, I don't believe in letting an enemy sit around with us. I'm tellin' you, if anyone in here got infested, it's them! It's them!"

"And I sure as hell am not standing down until this asshole does!" Shepard retorted.

"Look, Jacob, let's be honest with each other. This isn't because you think he's got an alien in his head; I know you've been pulling shit against Shepard and his men and now that we're locked up just want someone to blame so you can get out of here."

"Sir, look at the evidence. Every one of the Eagles is a nigger. Every goddamn one! Seems like the snakes are racists like that."

Don decided to try another approach. "Let me ask you a question, corporal: Why'd you enlist?"

"Sir?"

"Why did you enlist in the Army, corporal?"

"Because I wanted to protect my country, sir. Because I was willing to fight for my country, sir."

"And are you willing to die for your country?"

"Yes sir I am!"

Don turned to Shepard. "Same questions, Sergeant. Why'd you join the Army?"

"Because I love my country, sir, and I'm willing to fight and die for it."

Don turned to Douglas. "You're willing to fight and die for your country. He's willing to fight and die for his country, a country that, let's be honest, hasn't been treating colored people with a lot of respect. Sounds to me like you two have a lot in common. Hell, sounds to me like he's more of an American than you. Could you do the same, in his shoes? Could you find it in you to fight and die for a country that treated you like shit?"

The corporal went silent for a couple seconds, Ernest could see him looking down through the small cell window.

"Stop trying to start something corporal, go back to your bunk, and I don't see the need to drag you out for insubordination. Walk away, and this doesn't have to be a problem. Keep it up, and you'll only add disobeying a direct order to the list, and that's something I can't ignore."

Douglas looked up, then hit his cell wall one last time, then turned away. "This isn't over." he said. Then raising his voice so it carried through a large portion of the impromptu cell block "Just wait. We'll go to sleep, and none of us will wake up in the morning except those niggers and the snakes in their heads!" he called out loudly.

Murmurs began to spread among the men, and Don regretted that he was unable to tell if they were agreeing with Douglas or not. He motioned Simmons and Ernest to come closer.

"Well that could have gone better. Ernest, I don't want to yell this across the cell block, I need you to tell Harold this: I want you to keep your men close, they're all in that cell so it shouldn't be too hard, but also once we start getting out of here. Simmons, do some asking around either through the cells, or once we start getting out after we get a clean bill of health, see how many of the men agree with Douglas or at least sympathize. This could be a problem, both now and later on and I'd rather not have something like this fuck up our unit down the line if shit ever hits the fan worse than it has."

"Sir do you really think it could be that bad?"

"I don't know, we're all soldiers, and we'll do as we're told, even Douglas will do that, but it's one thing to work together with clenched teeth, it's a whole different ball game when your backs are to the wall and you don't trust each other."

"I'll do what I can on my end Don." Ernest said. "I'll pass along the message."

After Ernest talked with Shepard and his men (in low voices to avoid their next door neighbor), Ernest made his way to the main building. He'd been under the watchful gaze of a half dozen troopers while he was in the cell block, so agent Marcus felt comfortable letting him back in. As he entered, he saw the gate was online, Marcus and a group of troops were nearby.

"Group coming in?" he asked

"Yeah, we've got some doctors and nurses coming in from Heliopolis, they're going to take over the main medical examinations and handling of treatment. We're getting stuff prepped for some gear that's arriving from Earth, X-ray machines and that stuff, anything that might help."

"Sounds good." Ernest said as the doctors and nurses began to appear "Let me know if I can do anything … CATHERINE?!" he yelled over Samuel's shoulder at a woman coming down the embarkation ramp.

Sam turned around and saw Catherine walking down the ramp removing a nurse's cap, carrying a large rucksack on her back.

"What the hell?" Suddenly his earpiece cracked to life.

"Agent Marcus! Catherine just went through the gate!"

"I know, she's standing right here."

"Look, I know the rules and protocols, but is there any way you can just send her back here right now? I mean she's only been there a few seconds."

Looking down and lowering his voice Sam spoke "I'm sorry sir, but protocol is clear, no one leaves this base while the lockdown is in effect. If I allowed that, that would severely undermine our position here and anytime in the future if god forbid we have to lockdown a base again. Making exceptions, especially for the family of the main base administrator, would look incredibly bad. Nepotism isn't something we can afford. I want to send her back through myself, dial the gate right now and shove her back in fucking cuffs for this. But. I. Can't. This is the first implementation of these protocols. We have to set the example now that, no matter what, the protocols will be adhered to precisely.

"Okay … Sam, I know you have a lot on your plate, but please, just keep her safe … oh god if we have to activate the contingencies ...

"We won't have to do that as long as we act smart and play it safe, Professor."

"Just … just be careful." he hear a crackle as the earpiece turned off. Looking over he saw Ernest arguing with Catherine, shoving his way past a pair of scowling soldiers, he grabbed the two by an arm each and marched them out of the embarkation room and into his office. Looking at Catherine, he exploded.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?!"

"I wasn't going to sit on Heliopolis like a schoolgirl while my husband was knee-deep in danger! I have a skill set I can use to help and I don't have to sit back worrying my ass off!"

"Catherine, I know you can do shit, I know you're competent, that's not the problem. The problem is, you just made it look like the daughter of the boss can run roughshod over rules and protocols. Do you realize how tense the situation is here?"

"It's true, I just got back from the cell blocks, there's already some tension in the base and this whole thing with the parasites has only been exacerbating it." Ernest said.

"Everyone's on edge and the fact that no one can leave, or more importantly escape, doesn't help. It's not bad now, but if things deteriorate, when it becomes life or limb what'll keep people in line is the rules and the ability to enforce the rules. When it looks like the boss's daughter can do whatever she wants, it looks bad and it undermines the effectiveness of command!"

Breathing in for several seconds, he gestured at the two. "It's too late to do anything about it now, go and work on what you need to work on, we'll discuss this later after we don't have to worry about getting killed by parasites."

As the two left, Sam, pulled out a silver cigarette case and quickly lit the white stick, savoring the moment of peace each inhale brought him. After a minute, an assistant came in with a manila envelope for him. Unpacking it as the man left, he scanned its contents, the instructions were brief.

Agent Marcus,

You are hereby instructed to prepare Contingency A for activation pending the compromise of Fort Roosevelt. Activation of the contingency will be left to your discretion.

Hands shaking slightly as he repacked the envelope, he dropped the cigarette and stamped it out as he left the room. Making his way to the command room, he saw it was a hive of activity and various personnel went about their tasks. Stepping behind an armored door, he closed it gently behind him and made his way to a wall safe at the other end.

Entering the long combination he finally opened the metal vault, inside were a trio of bright red knobs and a metal pedestal with another combination tumbler on it. Taking a deep breath, he twisted all three to the right as far as they would go. Satisfied, he closed the safe and left the room.

Beneath his feet, various pipes and tubes began to pump natural gas into a series of large canisters buried in each building in Camp Roosevelt. In the wall and ceilings, smaller canisters filled as well. Each would be filled to a high level of pressure until they would reach a near breaking point. Next to each canister was a sharp metal spike attached to a pneumatic actuator and in front of the spike was an electronic lighter. If the secondary portion of the contingency was activated, the spike would puncture the tanks while the lighter was simultaneously lit. Vents in the walls and leading to the buried canisters ensured that sufficient air and, more importantly, oxygen reached the canisters.

Fort Roosevelt was now one giant bomb waiting to go off.

Seven Hours Into Lockdown

In a temporary medical wing established in a side storage room, the medical personnel of Heliopolis and Fort Roosevelt worked diligently, going over all the dead bodies brought through the gate. Each one was carefully placed on a gurney and then slid into a clear plastic tube, where working with thick gloves, the doctors slowly began the laborious process of dissecting the bodies, all under the watchful eye of soldiers patrolling the catwalk above the medical area. A courier on the catwalks scurried back and forth between the medical area and the cell block to speak with Specialist Jean David, the medic attached to Alpha Squad whenever one of the doctors had a question. Given that he'd been the first person with medical experience to both see the aliens and witness a possession, the doctors were curious to hear his observations and opinions. All this occurred while the bodies were slowly being examined.

The first to be looked at were the bodies that had badly mutilated, they already had a short shelf life and needed to be cleared away fast. Little was gleaned from those initial bodies, apart from checks of the pouch area (assuming it survived) and an examination of the effect high explosive or shrapnel based weapons had on the aliens and their hosts.

Next were the intact bodies, they were first placed in the tubes and had their pouches examined. Once the parasite inside was confirmed to be dead, the body was then sent over to an X-ray machine where several pictures were taken. Afterwards, they were again placed in the tube where the more laborious dissection and autopsy process began. All in the meanwhile, an occasional flash bulb would go off as photos were taken of the bodies and other parts at different intervals. All the while, several recording devices were capturing the doctors words and keeping them for posterity as they discussed amongst themselves and stated facts aloud for the microphone.

With around 80 to 90 bodies (not counting the parasites they had to catalog and examine) and only three workstations and one X-ray, the examination process would take a long time.

However, after they finished the first round of autopsies on the aliens, they next turned their attention to Lieutenant Powell's body. First he was loaded into the X-ray to get his inside photographed, and then he too was placed inside the tube.

"Beginning examination of Subject 029, Lieutenant Richard Powell. Initial COD would appear to be a trio of gunshot wounds to the torso. Subject was believed to be possessed by a xenoparasitical life-form which caused him to attack and kill a number of his squadmates. Initial X-rays show the presence of no life form inside Powell, but concurrently, we're working on an autopsy of Subject 30, one of the alien entities recovered from ES-5. According to reports, this alien creature was believed to have exited Powell's neck upon his death, whereupon Lieutenant Hammond killed the creature."

"Given Hammond's description of events, we're rolling the body over to examine the neck area, luckily Powell was not shot around his head, so the area has been well preserved."

"Rolling body over now."

"On the back of Subject 29's neck there is in incisional mark that already appears to have rapidly coagulated. Prior medical records for the subject indicate that this mark was not present on his body prior to the ES-2 mission. The incision appears to cover an area spanning the cervical vertebra, covering the C2 Axis down to the base of the C3. Subject 30's head to too badly damaged to correlate its size, but examination of subjects 03, 17 and 22 would indicate that this cut would be large enough for the creatures to fit through, and the incision matches the type of cuts the mandibles of the creatures would make."

"How's the blood work coming along?"

"We've run the blood of the Subject 29 and 30 through a TEM, at first glance there appears to be no match or correspondence between the two. However, further examination revealed traces of an unknown substance, possibly a mineral or element, in the blood and spinal fluid of Subject 29. This element is more strongly present in the blood work of Subject 30. We're currently running more tests on the previously examined subjects, but if the pattern holds, it would indicate that these creatures possess a unique compound in their bloodstream, which can then be transferred to their host."

"As of now, we are uncertain how the parasites are able to effect control of their host, its possible this new element might play a role in that, acting as a chemical inhibitor of the brain's main functions to allow control, but again, it is too soon to tell."

"I would like the record to reflect that the fact the parasite went for Powell's neck would indicate that possibly the creatures use an unknown medium at this time to latch onto the vertebrae and directly interfere with the bodies motor function through the spine."

"It's possible, but at this time, so far all of this is conjecture. In addition the presence of abdominal pouches indicate that it is possible these creatures don't make their home in that part of the body. We'll continue to run tests on Subjects 29 and 30 while we continue to autopsy the aliens."

"Subjects 01 and 02 continue to be under sedation at this time, heavy guard has been placed on them. So far both subjects have displayed a remarkable resilience to anesthetics; we've had to nearly triple the dosage to keep them under. In an average man, the amount we've had to give them would have possibly been lethal. Subject 03 seems to be remaining in a deep, self-induced trance-like state and shows remarkably rapid healing of severe injuries. Sedation has been withheld from Subject 03 to allow proper observation of the trance."

"We have confirmed the presence of a live xenoparasite in pouches in all three of the subjects, and as of now, we're leaving them be, we don't know the nature of the relationship between the parasite and the host and are concerned that should attempts be made to remove the parasite alive from the subjects, it may harm or kill the subjects. Command wishes to interrogate the trio first before any attempts such as that are made."

"Base tests upon the deceased subjects that appear to act as hosts for the parasites, as well as observations made on Subjects 01, 02, and 03 indicate that structurally, they are identical to humans. Autopsies so far have revealed few obvious physiological differences between the Subjects and humans; the only difference noted so far is the presence of a small pouch located in the abdomen, which appears to act as a nest of sort for the parasites. Even then, this pouch appears to minimally affect the body apart from its presence and direct opening to the outside. It seems to not have change the makeup of the subject's intestines, stomach, heart, lungs, diaphragm, or even appendix and gallbladder."

"Blood work for the hosts have revealed a significantly smaller white blood cell count compared to normal humans. It could be possible that the presence of the unknown element acts as an immune suppressor to allow the parasite to take nest in the subject without fear of being rejected by the body."

"Again, this is conjecture, we'll know more as we continue the autopsies."

"Now beginning autopsy of Subject 31, cause of death appears to be. . .

Fifteen Hours into Lockdown

After it had been cleared, some of the equipment and artifacts recovered from ES-2 were finally being brought in for a more thorough analysis. Ernest, Catherine and a couple other persons gathered around and eagerly began to look at each object hoping to learn more.

"Look at this!" Ernest said pointing to a symbol on a set of armor "The Eye of Horus, also known as the Eye of Ra, or Wadjet. It was a fairly important symbol in ancient Egypt for protection."

"Do you think the aliens used it for a similar purpose?"

"Possibly, according to the autopsy pictures, all of the hosts had this symbol tattooed to their foreheads in addition to having the symbol on their armor. Since they appear to be soldiers or warriors, it would make sense for them to possibly try and invoke some kind of divine protection for themselves."

"Ernest, I remember you telling me that one possibility was that these aliens were masquerading as god and conquered humanity. Given what we're seeing now with the symbols and their uses, do you think its possible that the aliens instead just conquered humanity and through cultural osmosis the Egyptians adopted their symbols and such?"

"It's possible. If the aliens have a habit of tattooing themselves and invoking divine symbols of protection, then we might have had it wrong. Depending on how long they might have had a presence on Earth the cultural bleed through of invader to the conquered could have happened fairly quickly, especially if humanity was in an incredibly primitive state."

"My biggest question is how might human culture have developed when the humans weren't on Earth." Catherine chimed in.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't forget, the people we just fought were humans, yes humans that have an alien parasite in them, but humans. Barring any kind of biological or technological immortality," she said to the chuckles of everyone on the room, "then it's likely that if humanity was conquered in the past, the aliens took some of our ancestors off world and sent them somewhere else. If they need hosts then they'd probably need a large pool of individuals."

"That makes sense, the biggest question is though, where would they be?"

"I'm not sure, and I think an even bigger question might have to be, how many humans are out there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it Ernest, humanity has a fairly fast reproductive rate; a woman can be fertile for a decent amount of time, having about one child a year, or more if she has twins. Now in the past this was because science hadn't caught up so a lot of children died young. But now imagine the possibility, if humans were taken off world and placed under the auspice of alien technology, then they could have large number of children and have those kids survive to have more kids, if the aliens wanted to have a large breeding pool of humans. Assuming the aliens wanted this, they could have a few generations of exponential human growth and see a small pool of humans grow into a massive group. If multiple groups were taken by aliens thousands of years ago, there could very well be far more humans off world then there are here on Earth, that is again, assuming the humans taken were allowed to reproduce and have communities."

Catherine's speech hung in the air for several seconds as each person in the room absorbed the implications of what he was saying.

"My God." was all Earnest said.

"Again that's just a possibility, for all we know humans taken were kept like pets, or were severely curtailed. We just don't know, but if the aliens had this kind of presence on Earth that could allow such a cultural bleed through, and if they had technologies like the Stargate and if they wanted humans for hosts, then it would make sense to have populations off world and they would have had plenty of time to relocate populations."

"If that's the case, if there are other humans out there … where could they be?"

Area 52- Twenty Five Hours into Lockdown

With fully half the total military support for the Initiative locked down, including most of their senior staff, full operational command the Area 52 facility had fallen to six-months-out-of-Fort Benning OCS 2nd Lieutenant Howard Bennett. While Bennett had technically been in command of the facility since he'd been brought into the program shortly after Lieutenant Hammond had effectively transferred full-time to Roosevelt, it had essentially been merely a subordinate position to the Lieutenant. Now, though, things were likely to change. It had already been discussed that offworld exploration operations should now be effectively divided between the two military bases, so that, in the future, they wouldn't be crippled by a quarantine of one facility.

As he watched the Stargate Embarkation Room through the narrow window from the command center, he thought back to when he'd been approached about the program. It had started when General Marshall paid a visit to Fort Benning. From what he understood, Marshall and a small staff had asked to see the performance records of everyone currently in the OCS program, and had approached him in particular, due, according the general, to the fact that Bennett had been in the 13th Airborne. He explained that the 13th as a whole was slowly being integrated into a new program that took pages of nondisclosure agreements and numerous assurances that he could keep a secret before the general was willing to discuss it fully.

At first he'd been hesitant, secret programs and the like tended to give him the willies, but then the General mentioned that Hammond had been apart of the program for a while now. That piqued his interest, he had met him on several occasions and he always seemed like a level headed kind of guy, the kind who always looked out for the men first. If he was comfortable in that kind of a secret program then Bennett figured it might warrant another look.

He agreed to go through an assessment and background check as part of the selection process for the program. After about a week of interviews he was invited with a small group of other people to sign on to the program. They had to sit through hours of document signing and talking to some spooks from an intelligence agency he'd never heard of before, until finally they were invited by the General to sit down and watch a briefing.

Two hours later, Bennett's world had been shattered and reformed after he saw the footage and heard all the details of the program. Aliens, space travel, exotic new locations, the safety of Earth. It was almost overwhelming, but he absorbed it fairly well and was eager to start.

Unfortunately, given the conservative nature of the programs exploration efforts, he'd yet to go off world, a fact that left him somewhat disappointed, but he understood the inherent risks and accepted them.

The biggest issue they'd run into so far, with the lockdown in effect, had been power. It had turned out that, with present resources, they could only keep the gate active for thirty-eight minutes, give or take a few seconds. Since powering the gate was an exhausting process taking millions of joules of energy and several hours to complete from Earth's end, revisions had been made to the plan. Now, Heliopolis was being used as the primary connection to seal Fort Roosevelt, since apparently the pedestal had more than enough power to dial in quickly and repeatedly. When data needed to reach Earth, it was transmitted to Heliopolis, then the connection was broken and Heliopolis immediately dialed to Earth, since it was deemed unlikely that a wormhole could connect to an active stargate. This minimized the risk of a potential escape to Earth or Heliopolis.

Now though, he was standing with several other officers, NID agents and professor Langford as they pored over the latest data sent via radio from Fort Roosevelt.

"According to this information and assessment, including conjectures by the cultural and science team, we now have reason to suspect there could be human life outside Earth and our bases."

That left the room silent, the implications that humanity could be out there in space, possibly under the yolk of alien oppression.

"Anyways, I've been talking with the President and Prime Minister and we're all in agreement, the possibility of humans being out there gives us a new impetus for our mission. While we have to continue to try and find ways to protect Earth, we now might have a secondary mission. Pending interrogation of the two captives will tell us more, but for now we need to contend with the possibility that humans are out there off world. If the prisoners can confirm this, then the SGI will have a new mission apart from protecting Earth. We'll need to find our lost brothers, The reason you're all here is once the situation on Fort Roosevelt has been resolved, we intend to increase our exploration efforts. If there are humans out there, we need to find them. . ."

Fort Roosevelt- 28 hours into lockdown

"Examination of Subject 67 beginning, checking pouch to confirm the presence of xeno parasite. . .Huh. . .Oh shit!"

"Phillips? What is it?"

"I'm peeling back the layers here, there's no parasite in here! This wasn't a body that had been tagged for a removed parasite either!"

"Oh fuck! Where is it?!

Meanwhile

It waited, watching. There was little chance to act now, not with everyone so high-strung and on alert. It had seen what could happen even if these men were caught off-guard. The one called Lieutenant Hammond had not hesitated to fire on his counterpart when the foolish prim'ta that had overtaken that man had acted rashly. The division caused by one of the men could help, though, keep them distracted so they didn't look too hard at what was right in front of them. But they would pay. Somehow, it would find a way to make them pay. Its host's memories were full of information, and it slowly browsed through that, gleaning all it could about this place, about the intruders.

They were from Earth, a distant memory for his people, their hosts came from the hundreds, if not thousands of pacified worlds that played obedience to their betters, to their gods. Now though, it seemed that the Tau'ri had returned, ignorant to their past, and their servitude to the gods. They had advanced greatly since they were last subjugated, before they had the gall to rebel. It drew from its queen memories passed down to recall as much as it could.

If they were allowed to proceed unchecked, they could pose a small measure of concern to the Goa'uld, but for now? They're world was still primitive, a handful of Ha'tak could rain fire down upon them and return them to their proper place. His lord needed to know, he had to escape. He just needed to bide his time and wait for the right moment. The Zat'nik'tel he'd hidden would likely come in handy for his escape. . .


	19. Lockdown: Hour 28 to Conclusion

Chapter 16

Fort Roosevelt- 28 Hours Into Lockdown

Agent Marcus turned when he heard the knock at the door. "Come in." he called, and was surprised to see two of the medical personnel.

"What is it?" he asked, a pit forming in his stomach. Given how busy everyone was, two doctors leaving the bay meant something was up.

"Agent Marcus, we felt it best to inform you personally." One of the doctors said before taking a breath. "One of the pouches is empty. One that shouldn't be."

Samuel paled. "You're sure?"

"Positive. The pouch that the aliens live in has several small organic nodes that appear to be locations they latch onto while inside. Upon death so far, it seems the aliens clamp down on these nodes. It's been helpful for us since it means that none of the alien cadavers have slid out. The fact that one pouch is empty can only mean one thing; one of our men could have been compromised." The doctor finished as he let the final sentence hang in the air

"Shit!" Sam muttered as looked at the table where he'd been working with various files scattered about.

Speaking up, the doctor continued: "I've already had my colleagues search the lab area, and I recommend that we sweep the base, in case it's still on its own."

"What are the odds that it is?" he asked, voice perking up slightly

"In all honestly, it's highly unlikely, these creatures appear to be parasitic in nature. The presence of fins and gill-like structures indicate that their natural habitat is probably aquatic. Unless in the presence of a native habitat, it's likely there's only one reason one of these things would leave its host, and that-"

"-Would be to enter a new host. Christ."

"I'm sorry sir, but that's likely what's happened here. We'll need to get on this as quickly as we can."

Samuel shuddered. "I'll get security teams right on it, just to be sure its not on its own. In the meantime, doctors, we need to start searching our personnel, starting with the medics and Alpha Squad."

"We already begun, Agent. We searched each other first, and haven't left each other's sight since, either. All medical personnel in the lab have been checked, and paired off, with strict instructions to keep a close eye on each other to minimize the risk of post-inspection infestation."

"Let me guess: judging by the reports, the entry point should take the form of a recently-healed scar on the neck, right?"

"Yes, sir."

Samuel stood up and turned around. "Take a look."

"Sir?"

"Check me first. Then we'll proceed."

"Sir, with all due respect, it's about more than just the entry wound. Given the intelligence of these parasites and their ability to enter to body and rapidly assume control of the individual, we have to account for the possibility that they can try and enter the body in places that wouldn't leave an obvious mark."

"Such as?"

"Well, the mandibles of the creature are highly efficient at slicing away at flesh in order to move about the body. It could enter anywhere really to try and burrow through, though the neck is likely preferred since it offers direct access to the brain and spine. Entering elsewhere could potentially cause internal wounds as the creature tunnels through, so any entrance through the lower body will likely be impossible or difficult. Entrance through the torso or head are the most probable. Entering through an orifice could very well allow the parasite access to the body without leaving a mark."

Sam wined at the thought of one of those things forcing his mouth open. "So what are our options, then?"

"We'll, we've been working out a test, a twofold method really. First we'll take a sample of your blood and run it under the electron microscope, the aliens seem to leave a trace of some unknown element in people's bodies. While we scan that, we'll run you under the X-ray to see if there's anything actually in you."

Turning, Sam signed "Okay, how long will that take?"

"Well the blood work should only take a few minutes, we just need to see if there's any of this unknown substance in your blood. After that, the X-ray image takes about an hour to develop."

"An hour an image? Doctor you are aware of how many people are on this base right? An hour a person would take us several days to actually clear everyone!"

"Fortunately, we do have a moderately sized dark room, so we can process several X-Rays at once, we're already developing the first images for the medical personnel, we should be getting the results back for that soon, but so far, no one came back positive for the unknown element with the blood work. That's our real canary in the coal mine, the X-rays are to be absolutely sure."

"Okay, check me with your next batch of medical personnel, then finish making sure everyone on your teams is safe. After that, check the security details, we've got to make sure no one outside the cells has been compromised."

Several minutes later, Sam was lead down to the makeshift medical wing. Stripping down, he quickly donned a medical garb. He twinged as the medics stuck a large needle in his arm and took a sample of blood. Still smarting, he laid down on a gurney and let the X-Ray image him, feeling a slight tingle as the invisible rays pierced his body. Standing up, he changed out as he waited for his results.

"Well, good news, your blood work came back clean sir, once we get these X-rays, we'll be able to clear you."

The next hour was painful as Sam waited in a small holding room to the side. He heard the doors to the medical wing open several times and several more doctors and medics began their examinations. After about an hour a doctor poked his head in and told him his results came back negative. Relieved to be cleared, he moved into the command center, issuing quiet orders to begin searching the facility while at the same time ordering a team of security guards to escort the cleared medics to the holding facility to begin searching the personnel once they had been confirmed to be human.

"Once two people have been cleared, pair them off, re-arm them, and put them to work on security patrols." he instructed. The men looked relieved, the personnel who'd been at Camp Roosevelt when the away teams returned had been pulling double shifts to cover the extra guard duty.

Fort Roosevelt-30 Hours into Lockdown

Ernest and Catherine had made their rounds around the warehouse, seeing who sided or sympathized with Cpl. Douglas and who didn't. They reported to Hammond that the outlook had shifted since the day before; apparently, all of them waking up alive had put a damper on Douglas's position. Nearly half the men saw no reason to suspect the negroes above anyone else, a quarter were on the fence between the positions, and only a quarter were firmly sided with Douglas. They did note though that the sentiment seemed to not necessarily have to do with standing prejudice against the negro soldiers, it was more worry and paranoia in the cells regarding the possibility of infestation transferring to a visible scapegoat. Only Douglas and one or two others could honestly be considered significantly prejudiced. It could still get nasty if things heated up though, but if something actually happened, the pair suspected that far fewer people would actually cause a scene. The men may have had issue with the others, but their training and respect for the chain of command kept them in line. After they'd helped with that, the two had returned to their offices to examine some of the alien artifacts.

Don and Simmons had quietly discussed these findings for a bit before they turned to a deck of cards Simmons had snuck in. They'd done all they could from their limited position.

"Got any sixes, Simmons?" Don asked as he leaned back against the cool corrugated metal. Laying on his back on the cot, Simmons lazily raised a card and flicked it at him. He was about to ask for twos when a call echoed through the warehouse-turned-holding-facility. "All personnel, step away from your cell doors! Form an orderly line against the far wall from the door, and maintain that position until ordered otherwise!"

"What's going on?" Simmons asked standing, his cards spilling on the floor. Across the warehouse the rest of the men were now frantically whispering to each other, likely asking the same question.

"Looks like they're searching us now" he said to Simmons.

Samuel walked into the warehouse and onto the catwalk. "Men, here's the situation." He bellowed, his voice carrying over the empty space "You will be searched for signs of infestation. First a guard will come to your cell and ask you to step out. They'll look at your body for any sign of potential infection. After that, you will be escorted to the medical wing, where a thorough blood work and X-ray will happen. If you're found to be clean, you will be released and re-armed to help with guard duty, a lot of our boys could use some rest. I apologize sincerely for the inconvenience and trouble this has caused, and as we now know what to look for in an infested person an. . . "

"Someone got snaked!?"

"What the fuck?"

"Why are we sharing cells!?

Several voices began to raise in panic as a low murmur swept over the cells. Everyone had privately been hoping that the quarantine would end up being just a formality. The third sentiment seemed to carry the most weight as soldiers though as some began to shift their gaze to their cell mates.

Raising his voice, Sam spoke over the din, quieting down as many of the voices that he could. "It has been decided to move ahead with getting everyone cleared and back on duty. We'll take several of you first and if it's all good, they'll come back to help with guard duty and escort!"

"Well then check the fuckin' blacks first!" Douglas yelled.

"Corporal, stand down!" Don hollered. It was too late, though, as similar shouts from the corporal's sympathizers started rising up. Some of the more nervous looking soldiers also joined in the chorus, keeping one eye on their cell partner and the other on the people they could see beyond the bars. Sam had his hands raised, trying to restore order down below.

Suddenly a loud clang pierced the shouting. The voices slowed as another clang echoed, the cell block becoming just murmurs as all eyes fell on the cell where the sound came from. Sergeant Shepard slammed a fist into the thin metal wall of his cell for a third time, the crash and echo bringing the low symphony of noises to a halt. A deathly silence fell over the chamber, unfortunately it also brought the guards' weapons to bear, ready to fire at the sign of trouble.

Walking up to the door of his cell, the Sergeant gripped the bars and looked out at one of the guards, before turning his head up at Samuel. With a calm voice, loud enough for everyone to hear, he called out "Sir, my men and I volunteer to be checked for infestation first!"

"Are you sure, Staff Sergeant?" Hammond asked through the wall. The last thing he wanted was to give Douglas any vindication, that would be poison for morale and future cooperation.

"Positive, sir." he said without hesitation.

Samuel watched the scene unfold. "Very well, Staff Sergeant." He looked at some of the guards who had filed into the room. "You've been briefed on what to look for." he said. "Take a look at the Staff Sergeant and his men first. From there, we go by seniority."

The four men in the cramped cell moved to the back wall as a squad of soldiers came up to their door, weapons drawn. On the catwalk, several more kept their weapons trained on the group. One by one, Shepard and his men filed out slowly, removing their shirts to be visually inspected by the soldiers. No fresh wounds or scars were seen, so quickly pulling their shirts on, they were marched out of the door to the next building. They'd have to go through the embarkation room then straight to the isolated medical wing.

. . .

As the men left, it took a deep breath. Was this a bluff? Did they really know what to look for? Or had they discovered its former incubator's empty pouch and were simply trying to flush it out? It followed the order, lining up against the back wall of the cell, within arm's reach of the hidden zat'nik'tel. It had been difficult to conceal, but fortunately, it had been sent back to Earth shortly after the battle, before the symbiote that had taken over the man named Richard Powell had acted, and had managed to conceal the weapon in the same warehouse that now served as their prison. It had been hard to make sure he was in the same cell it had strapped the weapon to underneath the cot, but he'd managed it. And, fortunately, with its cell near the entrance, it could move quickly. It eyed Douglas, thankful that the man had started advocating a racial inclination for infestation. They were less likely to suspect it Sitting down on the cot, it began to wait, the time for inspection would come soon enough. It couldn't make any movement here in the cell-block, but perhaps when they had to go to inspection, that would be the time to strike if need be. . .

Four hours later.

Alright, next group will be. . .uh oh." Don muttered as he set down the clipboard

"Who is it sir?" Shepard asked standing up straight

"It's Douglas and some of his men. . .Sergeant, if you'd like I'd be more than happy to take care of this one for you."

Nodding the Staff Sergeant looked at his men before he spoke "I appreciate that offer sir, but with all due respect, I'll have to decline"

"Sergeant?"

"Look, you've said it yourself, integration of the army, and SGI, is going to a reality, Douglas and his men are going to have to get used to this fact, the sooner the better."

"I understand that, but do you really think this is an appropriate time to test that? We're in the middle of a miniature crisis right now Sergeant."

"With respect sir, with all our exploration plans, do you really think this will be the only crisis SGI ever will face?"

The question hung in the air for several long moment until the Sergeant spoke up again. "And sir, apart from the outside crossing, we'll be under the cover of other soldiers as well. The only time Douglas and his friends will ever be alone with us is outside, and we just have to cross fifty meters of open ground. Then we're back under the catwalk guns."

Don sighed as he weighed his options, one one hand every part of his mind was telling him that this was a bad idea and would only cause problems, but his own time as a sergeant, back when he was deep in the trenches and barracks with his men told him that sometimes, to get through to a man, a full shock treatment was needed. Weighing his options, he decided to go with his gut.

"Okay Shepard, we'll go with your plan, just be careful."

. . .

"Alright, groups of four lets go!"

Douglas eyed Shepard as he and the soldiers kept their weapons trained

"Couldn't they have someone else do this?" he snarled.

"They could, but it's our shift, now get your ass against the wall, then file out. The sooner we're done with this, the better."

"Don't you raise your voice with me, boy!" Douglas exclaimed as he complied and moved against the wall, apparently ignoring the fact that Shepard had at least five years on him. His eyes narrowed at Douglas as his men unlocked the door. Stepping forward, he ripped off his shirt, held his arms out and began to spin around slowly

"Just get it done." he said as Shepard inspected his body, his voice dripping with disgust.

"He's good." Shepard said after several seconds. "Over there, next!" he said gesturing to the next man in the cell. After he was cleared, they grabbed the next pair from another cell and checked them as well. The two men were already pulled their shirts off as the cell was unlocked. Checking their torsos and finding nothing the group prepared to leave.

. . .

It'd been lucky, first by virtue of having entered the host orally, then by virtue of having suggested to the other human in his cell that they remove their garments before the cell unlocked, to look as though they were speeding the process along, something the other man had been all too eager to do. While his cellmate was distracted pulling his shirt over his head, he'd reached under the cot and withdrew the zat'nik'tel, sliding it down the back of his pants as he pulled his shirt off as well. After the inspection, as he tucked the shirt back into the pants, he gently slid the device up the sleeve of his shirt. It was a tight fit, but if his plan worked, no one would notice until it was too late. As they filed out, the plan it'd had constructed in its mind was ready. It was not an optimal plan, but in light of the fact that a detection method had possibly been discovered, it had few options left, this would be its desperate bid to gain freedom, slim as though it may be.

Adopting the voice of its host, the creature bowled forward as the group began to move and whispered to Douglas.

"Look at that guy, he's loving every minute of this, being above you." he said gesturing to Shepard with his head

"Tell me about it. That asshole, I'd love to give him what for." Douglas muttered as they moved.

"I bet he's just looking for an excuse to beat you down, he could claim that it was for base protection or something."

"You think?"

"No talking!" Shepard yelled over his shoulder.

"Positive." it whispered as they exited the prison and walked across the open ground to the embarkation chamber. The four guards tightened their weapons, they'd be without the overwatch of the balcony above, each eyed their own charge with some extra scrutiny. The one called Douglas and the Goa'uld were the two lead prisoners, the other two were closely behind, guarded by the ones called Monroe and Morehouse. In the front, Shepard and Pete were leading the party.

Looking back, Shepard called out, "Lets move a reasonable pace, no need to make any sudden movements, people." he finished as his eyes fell on Douglas in particular.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?!" the man asked stepping forward, raising his voice "You think I'm gonna do anything stupid? You looking for a reason?"

"No. I'm telling you that since we're in a partially exposed area, no one, even my people should make any sudden moves." Shepard explained calmly as they walked.

"Bullshit! You were looking right at me when you said that, boy!" Indignation raging in his voice, his pace quickened slightly. If it could, the creature would grin. Putting on his best "concerned" face, he looked back at the two soldiers in the rear and gestured with his head at Douglas. Starting to move towards the man as though he were going to try and slow him down, the one called Morehouse gave him a slight nod.

Marching forward, arms outstretched as though he were going to slow down Douglas, the creature then moved his leg slightly, bringing a foot forward and tripping Douglas and sending him sprawling forward, right into Sergeant Shepard. Reacting instinctively, Shepard swiped at Douglas with the butt of his rifle, clipping him in the side of chest as he sprang back. Douglas yelped as the wood smacked his side. Smarting, his shins slammed into the ground and he clasped his side. On his knees looking up, he saw Shepard had managed to stay standing and was glaring down at him.

"The fuck?!" both men shouted at the same time

"What are you playing at, Douglas?"

Roaring in, pain, Douglas sprang up at Shepard "You fucking nigger!"

Shepard tried to parry the man with his rifle but snapped back as a fist buried itself in his face. Pete rushed to Shepard to break the two up, with the Goa'uld joining in, Pete forgetting his charge. Morehouse and Monroe though were shouting at it to step back, but it was too late.

Withdrawing the Zat'nik'tel, it palmed the device and time seemed to slow. With a quick raise of its arm, it brought the metal handle down on the back of Pete's head. Douglas and Shepard just began to notice it, when it whipped the device to the side, slamming it with a meaty smack against Shepard's skull, sending him sprawling next to Pete. Gripping Douglas's shirt, the creature finished its motion and placed the Corporal between himself and the remaining two soldiers. Shouting and raising their rifles, the Goa'uld ignored the pair and activated the zat'nik'tel. A bright bolt of lightning arched across the gap and struck Morehouse in the chest. As the man's limbs went limp and dropped him to the ground, it squeezed the handle again and sent another bolt of lighting, this time at Monroe. As the two men fell fell to the ground, it began to grip Douglas as tightly as it could, directing him towards the embarkation room

"Move!" its voice boomed with an unearthly echo. Reaching down, it grabbed the earpiece out of Pete's ear.

As they marched forward, it looked back and saw the two prisoners scrambling for the weapons of the guards, Almost as an afterthought, it shot them with the zat'nik'tel as well.

. . .

Entering the embarkation chamber, Douglas watched in horror as he saw the soldier fire the device up at the metal walkway several times, the lightning arcing off the metal poles and railings, striking the men stationed above. All slumped to the floor of the walkway, unmoving. Looking to the right, it saw the large metal door that connected to the barracks. Aiming the weapon, it shot several bolts at the middle of it, where the two panels met. As the bolts struck one after another, he saw the metal deform slightly, fusing a small part of the two panels together. Huffing, the soldier yanked Douglas by his neck and pulled him forward towards the Stargate, which was glowing. He remembered that Earth kept the gate active to prevent people from leaving Fort Roosevelt. Shoving the earpiece in, the creature began to bark at him.

"The Chappa'ai! It it set for departure?" It asked glaring at the pool. When Douglas didn't answer, the creature pulled his arm back, twisting it painfully. Douglas yelled for several seconds, falling painfully to his knees for a moment before the thing yanking him up. "IS IT?" The creature asked again.

"N. . .No, that's an incoming wormhole." he gasped.

Grunting, the creature jammed the earpiece in its ear and began to shout.

"Humans! I know you can hear me. I demand you activate the Chappa'ai! I have one of your own here, make any attempt to stop me, and I will kill him!"

. . .

Out of the corner of its eye, it saw several figures moving towards him, weapons outstretched. As it squinted, it realize that it was actually a pair, the two soldiers it had incapacitated without an energy bolt from the zat'nik'tel. One had a small stream of blood trickling down the side of his head, but managed to stay upright. In the distance, one of the larger doors was beginning to open as well, now the pair were closer and were shouting.

"Drop it snake!"

"Let that asshole go!"

Training the zat'nik'tel on the pair, the creature watched as the two fanned out and moved to either side, splitting its attention. It was having difficulty moving its head back and forth to keep the pair in sight. Snapping the weapon to Douglas's head, it shouted "Don't move closer, or I'll kill him!" it hoped that they hadn't realized that the weapon could only incapacitate with one shot. It didn't relish the thought of supporting the dead weight of an unconscious human while trying to engage with the others. To it's relief, though, the pair slowed down, then stopped. It also realized that both were screwing their faces in forced concentration, the strikes to their heads likely the cause. The one named Pete called out.

"Give yourself up, we've got reinforcements coming in, once they finish popping that door open you're through!"

"Never! I've seen the memories of this host, I know that you people will not kill one of your own to capture me!"

"Normally you'd be right, but do you really think we'd put our planet at risk to save one man? Would you snakes do that?"

Snarling, it poked its head to the side further to look at Pete.

"Snake? You would call your gods 'snakes?' We are the Goa'uld! We are GODS! You should be kneeling before us, worshiping at our feet!"

"Answer the goddamn question!"

"We would, it would likely mean the deposition of a lord, in which case we'd easily take his place. Risk of others is simply a factor of life."

"What kind of fucked up life is that?" Shepard called out.

Shifting its head, the creature peaked out over Douglas's other shoulder and looked Shepard in the eye.

"It is the way of life for the System Lords and those who serve. The weak fall and the strong rise! All it is is a matter of-"

. . .

BLANG!

Douglas felt the pressure release from his shoulder; sprinting forward without thinking, he ran towards Pete and Shepard, once he was past the two, he finally chanced a look back.

The soldier who had captured him was laying on his back spread eagle, a large, bloody hole had caved in the man's forehead. Bits and pieces of brain and blood littered the ground behind him, a large pool of blood also was forming around the base of his skull. Judging by the way its mouth was still contorted in an angry snarl, it hadn't even seen it coming.

Panting, he eyed Shepard, who was picking up the brass cartridge of his pistol and inspecting it with a small smile.

"Ho. . .How did you hit him? I. . .I saw you get whacked in the head!"

"I was on my college's 50 meter pistol team. I may never have done much sports, but that didn't mean I had no hobbies. I was having a bitch of a time hitting just him though, kept seeing double. Pete, how you holding up?"

"Still woozy Sarge, can I sit down now?" the man asked, gingerly rubbing his temple

"Go ahead, but keep your eyes open." he said, returning his gaze to Douglas.

The man curled his lip like he was trying to gnaw it off, the whites of his eyes still wide. A low booming started to echo through the room.

Boom. . .Boom. . .Boom. . .CRASH!

The metal door to the barracks sprung open as a dozen soldiers poured into the room, their rifles outstretched towards the trio. Above them, another squad was cautiously making its way onto the walkway, advancing towards their downed comrades. The familiar orders began to fill the air

"ON THE GROUND!"

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"

"NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS!"

Gently setting his pistol down, Shepard dropped to his knees and held up his arms as the soldiers moved in. Still eyeing Douglas, he gave a small nod as he was picked up by his arms and marched forward.

. . .

Three Hours Later

Agent Marcus, Lieutenant Hammond and Doctor Littlefield were sitting in the small makeshift conference room, officially this meeting was to discuss the ending of the quarantine now that the last of the soldiers had been screened, though there was one thought on everyone's mind, and Samuel made no effort to hide that when he began the meeting.

"We got very lucky gentlemen, very very lucky." to which to other two simply nodded their heads.

"Damn straight." Hammond chimed in "Add to it that the fact that we stopped that damned snake from escaping here is only the cherry on top. Still, you're right Sam, even if the thing had no chance of escaping, it could have been a hell of a lot worse, if it really had wanted to do some damage on the way out, it could have damn well almost done that."

"Speaking of damage, how're Sergeant Shepard and Private Williams doing?" Littlefield asked.

"Shepard and Pete?" They'll be alright, Pete's got a small crack in his skull, but with a few weeks of rest it should clear up, both have nasty concussions as well, but apart from that nothing much. The soldiers hit by that lightning-gun weapon are all fine also, apart from some sore muscles."

"Oh yeah, do the doctors know how that thing works?"

"Well, so far, they've been talking with the engineers about how this might work. We have no idea about the internal mechanics, but from what they think, the weapon sends a high voltage shot of electricity at the target and overwhelms the sensory and motor nerves of the person, causing spasms and contractions of the muscles. Still that's only a working theory, subject to change, but from our own understanding of electricity it seems to fit."

"Well, that might be useful if we ever need to capture one of these things alive, and it might be useful back Earthside. But anyways gentlemen, before we continue this meeting, there's one thing we need to address. Corporal Douglas." both men nodded at Samuel. From the recordings and the statements taken from Shepard and Pete, as well as Douglas' own admission, they'd been able to quickly piece together what had happened.

"Well, let's get this over with." Samuel said, reaching to an intercom

"Corporal Jacob Douglas, report to the command quarters,"

It took only a minute before he arrived, while he stood up straight, his eyes and head were aimed firmly downwards as he stepped into the room. The trio looked at each other before looking back at the man. Clearing his throat, Hammond spoke.

"I don't think I need to repeat why you're here corporal, and given the nature of our program, we can't quite have a big court martial. We're handling this in house, like a lot of our problems have to be. With that out of the way, do you have anything else you'd like to add on top of your previous statements?"

"No, sir." he said softly, eyes still down. Hammond briefly thought the man looked like a puppy that had shit on the carpet and knew it wasn't supposed to.

Ernest leaned forward: "I'd like to impress upon you, Corporal, how lucky we all were that no-one died in the creature's escape attempt apart from its host. If that thing had been carrying some kind of lethal weaponry, all those soldiers incapacitated in the medical wing would have likely died. Those men were incapacitated because you attempted to lash out at Sergeant Shepard. It's quite clear that this creature played your own opinions to its advantages. If you'd kept your calm then its likely we could have brought it to the medical wing and gotten more information about how these creatures live." Spreading his hands, Ernest slumped backwards in the chair "As is, now we have nothing."

"Corporal Douglas, if this was a normal Earth military operation, you'd have been hauled before a tribunal and charged with striking a superior officer, endangering the lives of your comrades, breaking quarantine, and a multitude of other small charges. Best case you'd be drummed out with a dishonorable discharge. Worst, you'd be locked up before being handed that discharge!" Hammond said, tone rising, the Corporal winced as each word pierced him.

"If not for the outstanding recommendation you were given going into the SGI, Corporal, I'd be inclined to send you back to Earth and do just that, but as is, we need all the soldiers we can get. So against our better judgment, we are going to give you another chance to do your duty."

"S-Sir?" he asked, finally looking up.

"You heard me, one last chance, again because circumstances demand it. Are there going to be more problems with Shepard and his crew?"

"N … no sir, no more problems."

"Good, because we've got bigger things to worry about than this bullshit. Dismissed!"

The corporal scrambled out of the room as quickly as he could, the second the door closed behind him, Sam let out a loud sigh as he leaned back and cupped his hands over his face. "At least we got that over and done with!" he said rubbing his eyes.

Ernest nodded "We're going to have to keep an eye on him, Don, one instance isn't going to magically change everything that man thinks."

"I know, I know, I'll keep my personnel on it, so anyways now onto lifting this quarantine?"

The three talked back and forth for several minutes until a knock at the door took their attention. A medic walked in triumphantly holding up a manilla envelope. Gently tossing it on the table, he grinned. "All clear sirs, no infestation in any personnel!"

The three simultaneously broke out in smiles, at least they'd gotten some good news. Calling into their ear pieces at the dialed gate, they trio talked with Professor Langford at Heliopolis. After all three repeated a code phrase that was supposed to be their own unique all clear, Dr. Langford requested that a complete medical report for all personnel be sent back before the quarantine was lifted. More than happy to oblige, the staff of the medical wing quickly assembled a box and filled it with envelopes containing each soldiers x-ray and blood work, as well as the paperwork for the doctors to review. The Professor told them that it would take an additional hour to inspect the reports to make sure they were valid.

After a small agonizing wait, their ear pieces crackled to life once more, in the background they could hear cheering from Heliopolis as Langford spoke.

"You're all clear, I'm using my authorization to end the lockdown of Fort Roosevelt."

The three fell silent for a moment as the burden of the quarantine was lifted from their shoulders. While Don and Ernest sat down and began to chat, Sam began to walk out the door.

"Sam! Where are you going?"

"Well, now that the quarantine is over, I figured I'd go down to the medical bay and have a small talk with our two sleeping guests." Unbuttoning one of his sleeve cuffs he began to roll the fabric up his arm. "One way or another, we're going to figure out what the hell these things want with us."


	20. Laying The Groundwork

[Chapter 17

Ernest paced around outside the door as he and Samuel were waiting outside the infirmary, waiting to speak with the prisoners.

After minute or so, Sam put up a hand, stopping Ernest mid-pace. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to be, I know interrogation isn't your area of expertise." Sam said with a reassuring nod.

Returning the nod, Ernest looked at the door. "Thanks, Sam, I appreciate that, but I should be here. Something tells me we might be doing this again in the future."

"No worries." Turning to a guard in the hallway, Sam asked several questions to which Ernest hardly heard.

In truth, Dr. Littlefield was wracked with a potent mixture of fascination and worry, not at his safety, he knew that a million and one security precautions were being imposed on the little medical wing. No it was worry about what they might find out about this … well, man and his people.

But the academic in Ernest was ecstatic about what they might find out about humans beyond Earth.

"Are you ready?" Samuel asked after finishing talking the soldier standing guard.

"Y-yes." Ernest said.

"Don't worry there will be two soldiers inside the room with us and two more outside and don't forget that the prisoner's strapped down." Samuel said before entering the room. Pausing as he opened the door, he flashed a grin, "Plus there's the fact he's still recovering from enough broken ribs to lay out a grown man."

"I know, I'm not afraid. It's ju-" Before he could finished one of nurses interrupted him.

"Before you start the interrogation the Doctor wants to speak with you, sirs." The blond nurse in uniform said, eyes down on her clipboard.

"Of course." Samuel said as they entered the medical wing. It was abuzz with activity as a dozen nurses moved back and forth between a multitude of beds, with a couple doctors hovering in the background. Glancing around, he saw Sergeant Shepard laying back on his bed, a wrip of gauze around his head.

He waved "Sergeant! You doing alright?"

Shepard tilted his chin up, trying to remain motionless "Yep, right as rain, agent." he groaned "Doc says I should try not moving my head around for another day, but I should be fine." He lazily waved an arm to his right "Pete, too."

"Well if there's anything you need, let me know."

"Actually, there is." he said pointing a finger to his left towards a group of beds occupied by several soldiers "Can you get Morehouse to shut up about his grandma's sailfish recipe? Bad enough we're already on military rations, but now we're in medical… on medical rations." Flashing a playful glare at his men, "I'd have to say, listening to stories about such culinary goodness is just too cruel!"

Morehouse turned and cracked a wicked smile at his Sergeant. "Sorry sir, you mean you don't wanna hear 'bout the cuts so tender and rich they melt in your mouth?"

"Swear to god, Morehouse, I'll have you doing oil changes for a month for this insubordination!"

Morehouse looked back at Monroe and the small group of soldiers stuck in the medical wing, with a small nod he continued "Well, then I suppose I shouldn't mention the chili pepper sauce that my uncle brings in on occasion."

One of the soldiers played along. "Hey, Morehouse, isn't that the one you said tickles the roof of your mouth likes its a cradle of warmth?"

"The very one and the same, let me tell you, first you get some serano and. . ." he began to rattle off a list of spices to the enraptured group.

With arms raised, Shepard called out "Save me, agent, my men are sadists!"

Sam chuckled. "Much as I would like to, Ernest and I have some business to attend to. Best of luck though, Shepard." he finished as the two continued towards the isolated room in the back of the wing. Behind them, Shepard groaned again as one of the soldiers was apparently "inspired" to describe a homemade chili chicken recipe.

"Did you see that?" Sam asked with a small smile on his face.

"I did, looks like some progress is being made there."

"Yeah, between being stuck in medical and the ass-chewing Douglas got after his stunt, everyone's been real motivated to be cooperative."

"Hopefully it'll stick." Ernest mused as they neared the back. As they approached the guarded door, an aged doctor flagged them down. Clipboard held to his side, he stared into Sam's eyes before he spoke, his gravelly voice carrying an air of authority that reminded Sam of his old drill instructor.

"You will not stress my patient nor will you do anything to physically aggravate his condition even more so, I'm not going to have you putting the screws on him. Is that clear?" He said.

"And with all due respect why's that, Doctor? I don't receive orders from you and I have a job to do, we've got to get as much information from his as we can." Samuel voiced. In truth, he wasn't planning on hurting the prisoner, he just didn't like someone outside his command barging in and dictating things.

"You will if you want a live prisoner and not a catatonic or dead one." He said standing closer to Sam, his gaze unflinching.

Sam bit his lip before responding "Well I'm certainly not planning on smacking his around today, doc, I've seen a fair share of wounds doctor. . .?"

"Sanderson."

"Well Doctor Sanderson, I can promise that I won't be torturing him, if that's what you're worrying about. While he's in medical I won't mess with his recovery. Once he's well, though, and if he's uncooperative. . ."

Sanderson just glared at Sam for a moment before grunting. Taking out a key, he unlocked the door and gestured for the two to enter. Ernest saw the prisoner in the bed, he had some bandages in the arms and the chest, but they left the X in the stomach free.

He also saw, in more detail, the tattoo in the forehead of the alien, It was an eye.

"Ra's symbol, just like on the rest." Ernest said looking at Samuel who narrowed his eyes.

"I took the liberty of having the nurses reduce the patient's sedative a few minutes ago. Based on what we've seen from his physiology, he'll be shrugging this off pretty quickly now that he's off the drip." No sooner did Sanderson finish then the alien opened its eyes and groan. Stirring, the ... well, the man began to wake up. After he blinked for several moments, he started to look around the room. Walking over, Sam roughly shoved an earpiece in the man's ear and stood back. After talking with the doctor for several more moments about the patient's vitals, Sam stepped to the bed's base and grabbed the railing, leaning in ever so slightly.

"My name is Samuel and this is Ernest, we're here because … Well, I guess because we want to ask you some question about your civilization." He asked, but the alien just looked at them without saying a word.

"If you cooperate I can talk with my superiors and get you a better room." he tried, but the alien never answered. Spreading his palms, Sam continued.

"Of course, you can always just end up in a dark cell once you're better, if that's what you'd rather prefer. I can make your life a lot easier if you help me." The silence in the room answered for the alien.

Ernest sighed before speaking. "Can you at least tell us this: who do you serve?" That seemed to pique the alien's interest. Tilting his head, he looked at Ernest and spoke for the first time, his voice surprisingly alive for a man who'd been under sedation just minutes before.

"I serve Ra, the glorious lord of the sun, and ruler of creation. He is the greatest God of all and once he finds you," He grinned, "He will make you pay for what you've done."

"Good. Good, that's something." Sam said straightening up "And this. . .Ra is it? Does he rule your nation? Your home?"

The alien chuckled, in the way a man laughed when he knew something the other didn't: "A nation? Ra rules no mere nation, He rules countless worlds personally in his everlasting demesne. Other lords all pay fealty to him in his immaculate imperium. Ra is everything, Ra is supreme. He is the god all others bow to."

'Well, at least he is talking.' Ernest thought. Sam meanwhile raised an eyebrow.

"Other gods? What other… gods are out there?"

The alien continued to smile. "Many."

"Well what are their names?" Ernest asked to silence, the alien simply looked to the side disinterested, grimacing slightly with the movement. "Let me hazard a guess, Isis? Seth? Osiris? Horus? Bast?"

The alien snapped his head back to him, glaring as he hissed "You speak the name of traitors, the son of our lord, and minor lordlings. Whom do you serve?"

"...Ok... let's change the subject, are there other humans out there in the galaxy?" Sam interjected

The alien seemed confused. "Yes, there are many of them scattered across the galaxy but wh?. . .ah." He said before smiling again, his eyes hardening as he renewed his glare at the men, a look of realization on his face "I know you've tried to befuddle my senses, yet know little of a Jaffa's body. You speak the names of the Gods like they're nothing, you know so little of the world beyond. I may be young, but I can still notice a thing or two. You must be so primitive that you just started traveling the stars, perhaps our Lords once visited you and ruled in their effervescent glory, but now no longer do. Were you damned by your betters, yet still cling to existence without your gods? Tell me, have you only just discovered your chappa'ai?"

Sam, to his credit, remained stoned face, but Ernest couldn't help but widen his eyes at the alien's rapid deductions. It seemed ludicrous that he could figure this out, especially with the drug cocktail they had him on, either he was delusional enough to believe in this idea of his gods...or they existed and were powerful enough to make this hyperbole the truth. Either thought wasn't of much comfort to Ernest. The alien saw him and his wide eyes and chuckled, satisfied with that as his answer.

He laughed, wincing in pain. "The arrogance of the primitives is something we always hear stories about, but I never thought I'd witness it first hand." He laughed again and after after another grunt, he looked at the pair "I will tell you this. There are many Gods, far more than your paltry list. Each commands great armies and massive fleets. The most pathetic of lords might have a few ships and mere thousands at his command, others have fleets of hundreds of warships and millions of warriors at their beck and call. But none, none of them compare to Ra, millions if not billions of humans and Jaffa serve him and him alone. His armada can darken the sky of any world he sees fit. His power is so great all the lords, no matter their strength and size, pay allegiance to him. All serve Ra, Goa'uld, Human, Jaffa." he coughed, his chest on fire with pain, wheezing, he finished "and eventually. So. Will. You."

Sam and Ernest looked at each other, Sam remained stone faced, and Ernest remained as calm as he could, though inside he was worried. As they let the alien catch his breath, Ernest pondered his next questions. When he looked well, he began.

"Ja-ffa what's that? You've mentioned that several times now, is that your name?"

"Jaffa, It's what we are, we who serve our Gods, we who fight in their battles and we who give our lives for them."

"So you're soldiers?"

"We are warriors." he said in a serious tone.

Ernest was going to ask another question but Samuel was quicker "What can you tell us about the parasite that's in your body?" he said while pointing his stomach.

The alien's eyes widened, his nostril flared "PARASITE!" he raised his voice "Watch your tongue, this is a god! Every Jaffa carries a god inside them, to protect them and in exchange, we're given strength, health and longevity. It is our covenant with our masters"

"A-are you telling me that what's in your abdomen. . .is a God?" Ernest said incredulous.

"They are our Gods, we've been instructed to protect and nurture the young of our masters, only the Jaffa are given this sacred task. What do you know, you ignorant savage as to dare to profane the sacred bond we share?!"

Noticing his agitation, the doctor moved in "I think that's enough for now, my patient needs to rest." The doctor said. Narrowing his eyes at Sam in particular.

"Fine, let's go Ernest!" He said

"Wait, one more question. What's your name?" Ernest asked

"My name?" The alien asked, labouring in his breathing "My. . .my name is Kor'us."and

"Well, Kor'us, we'll be seeing you around."

The two men swiftly departed, as soon as the door closed, Sam called out to the nearest nurse

"I assume you got all that?"

"Yes sir agent, all on the film reel, and the microphone picked up everything."

"Good, lets get a copy of those made pronto and sent back to Earth, that meeting between the president and the Commonwealth will be in a few days, we've gotta make sure they have all the up to date information they'll need."

. . .

One Week Later

Truman adjusted his tie for what felt like the millionth time as he mentally prepared for this meeting. They'd kept it as low key as possible, but the media caught whiff of it and were of course asking their usual questions. While it was parlayed as a simple meeting between the leaders of several Allied nations, it didn't take an intelligence officer to notice that this gathering was strictly between leaders of America and the Commonwealth nations and not just ambassadors and other diplomatic functionaries, but the actual heads of state of several nations and the foreign ministers of several more. Rumors were circulating, but the common line was being repeated, simple diplomacy.

"And if we're lucky, that all they'll be getting." Truman though as he splashed some water in his face. By all accounts he shouldn't be nervous, compared to commanding the nation at the end of the War, everything else should have been a cakewalk, but then again this wasn't anything. After all, one typically didn't prepare on a daily basis to reveal to several key allies that the Earth was under the threat of alien attack. Spending decades in politics and one could still never account for everything.

"At least Bevin will be there, that'll help." Foreign policy hadn't been his forte even before he became president, but he felt that'd he'd acquitted himself well enough so far in the grand scheme of things, though he was more than willing to admit to his shortcomings and was glad to bring in help when he could, this would be no exception. The Brits certainly had a lot more experience in dealing with their former colonies. Brushing himself off, he met with his guard outside and walked down to the meeting room in the White House. Given the wide spread of Commonwealth nations who'd be attending, Washington was deemed an acceptable place to meet, a nice central location for all the incoming dignitaries. As he entered the room, he noticed that the British delegation had been the first to arrive. Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin was sitting with a uniformed military officer and another gentleman in a suit.

"Punctual as usual." he thought as he approached the group.

"Ah, hello Mr. President."

"Mr. Minister, its good to see you, I assume your two fellows have already been briefed."

"Of course, it wouldn't do for our people to looked surprised at this meeting, it'd make us look a bit unprofessional." The large man said with a small smile.

"Of course. I won't lie, it'll be good to have you here, I'd hate having to break this news alone."

"Mmh, yes quite. Just know Mr. President, His Majesty's Government still stands ready to assist in any capacity it can, regardless of the outcome of this meeting."

Truman raise an eyebrow. "Ah, so you got the proposal then?"

"Indeed, and I must say that it does make a good bit of sense, and I'm confident that the others will be most amiable to this agreement, though it may take a little bit of extra persuasion."

"Well I hope so, we've gotten bit more information from Fort Roosevelt, but nothing more substantial than what was provided earlier, I think. . ." Truman was interrupted by a guard rushing over and whispering into his ear.

"We'll it looks like the South African delegation is ready to come in, I've gotta go play diplomat before we blow the lid off this. Hope you're ready."

"I always am" Bevin finished as he fished into a briefcase looking for several documents. As he placed the papers on his table, he looked up and saw President Truman shaking hands with Prime Minister Smuts, whom arrived with a pair of uniformed men.

"And so it begins." Bevin thought as he and his group stood, ready to greet their Commonwealth compatriots.

The rest of the delegations filed in slowly. Australia's Foreign Minister Herbert Evatt came in together with Peter Fraser, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, along with their combined staffs as a sign of ANZAC solidarity. Finally the last delegation lead by the Canadian Prime Minister, Louis St. Laurent, marched in. The groups quickly settled into their respective placed, the room was arranged into a crescent shape, with the tables forming a half circle, with the American president and his staff in the center of the arrangement. A projector and screen had been assembled ahead of time, but were shut off for a moment. As the politicos settled in, a veritable flood of reporters swarmed into the room. While the understanding was that most of this meeting would be conducted behind closed doors, for this opening portion and closing portions they'd be allowed access to the room for photos and a few questions. Ideally Truman would have liked to keep this whole meeting as closely under wraps as possible, but the reality of multiple high level dignitaries all gathering together meant that any hope of privacy would have been quickly quashed. Plus, they all also realized that such a meeting would be attracting eyes from not only the friendly nations of the world, but some of the more. . .paranoid gazes as well.

"Better off airing at least some of it to deflect the sting." Truman reflected. As everyone found their seats and settled down, the President assumed his position behind the central table and addressed the assembly.

"I'm quite happy to have everyone here for this meeting today" he began, his bespectacled eyes scanning the room "As we all know, nearly two years ago, the devastating conflict which plagued our globe, and touched all our lives finally came to a just and final end. While it might be tempting and even some might say, enjoyable, to lionize the achievements of each of our nations in ending the evil which wanted to destroy the freedoms we hold so dear, we can never forget that it was through the combined efforts of multiple nations which shattered the Axis Powers. While the UN is enjoying its inaugural year and hopefully will serve as a forum for us to facilitate a global peace, America would also like to extend a hand to some of its closest allies and work towards bringing everyone closer together to ensure that peace. For this moment, America has invited one of its closests friends in the war, the United Kingdom, as well as several of its partners within the Commonwealth of Nations to begin this process of tightening bonds and strengthening relationships with the world. " Placing a hand on the desk, he continued "It may be tempting and easy to see our victory and return to our patterns and habits of non-intervention in the globe, but for our success, America, like it or not has moved towards being a major partner in the global community of nations. We stand now at a crossroads of history. America can try and shrink back to the past, or it can move towards the future and act as one of the guiding beacons of freedom and liberty across the globe. This is just a first step in creating a more cohesive plan and consensus among our partners to ensure global stability. Overtime, more and more nations can and should take apart is this project of peace and together, help work towards the better future for all mankind."

"And thank god Taft is onboard with this." he thought as the glare of the flashbulbs temporarily blinded him as the small applause in the chamber echoed, he could see over the flare multiple journalists frantically scribbling down notes as he waited to begin fielding several of the questions. The forum was open for the other representatives to speak if they were given a question, but Truman wanted to get the meeting underway as soon as possible.

After about twenty minutes of questions, ranging from the sincere (would there be more foreign aid?) to the superfluous (what was Prime Minister Smut's favorite food in the states?), the guards in the room began to shoo out the reporters. As the last of the shutterbugs left the room, security came in and quickly searched for any bugs that might have been left behind. After a few minutes, the men in suits also filed out, leaving behind a pair of very carefully vetted guards, and the dozen delegates in the room.

Stepping behind his desk, Truman lowered his voice to a much fitting tone that matched the importance of the meeting.

"Now that they're gone, we can get down to the actual matter at hand." he said gesturing to the guards. One lowered the lights, while the other began to rig up the movie reel.

"Gentlemen, while this meeting is indeed about building closer ties between the global community, it's not quite in the way you likely imagined. If you would direct your attention to the screen. . ." The film reel began to project an all too familiar sight, the ring activating in a faint glow as the technicians turned the inner circle.

Images of the Stargate, the early experiments, the first groups, survivors from the ES-5 skirmish, the construction of Fort Roosevelt and the main base in the states. The dissections of the Eagle Warriors and the interrogation of the patient, to the demonstrations of the staff weapons, to name a few of the many scenes played out before the crowd. All painted the same picture though, its message loud and clear to everyone in the room.

Humanity wasn't alone.

After about two hours of footage, report presentations and descriptions from intelligence dockets, the delegates had become fully immersed in the basic premise of the SGI and their functions and goals, to say nothing of the technological miracle buried beneath the sands of Nevada. While obviously the nuances and the finer details of the operations were still to be discussed, for the general purposes of this first day Truman wanted the others brought up to speed as fast as possible and was quite prepared to devote this whole day to fielding any questions they might have.

A low murmur carried over the room for several minutes as each group conversed with themselves, processing everything they'd just witnessed. Delegates pointed at their dockets, scribbled more and more notes and huddled together as they figured out their next course of action.

Finally, Fraser was the first to speak to the small assembly, keeping his eyes on his docket while running a pencil down, his voice rose '"So as I understand, we've recovered more than one hundred and twenty five of these staff weapons, nearly fifty lightning rods, and seven to eight damaged or destroyed fliers?"

"You'd be correct, Mr. Prime Minister. Truman said

"And so what do you propose we do then about this, Mr. President?" Fraser asked.

"Well, I'd like to put forward to this assembly the idea of an alliance between our nations specifically for the common defence of our world from any possible alien threats, as well as to also coordinate research and development into technologies derived from the stargate." Truman announced to a general murmur of the crowed.

"Sensible." St. Laurent said as he looked around, the group others nodded in agreement.

Fraser spoke again, his pencil down "I agree, as will most of us here, having a united defence for our world is going to be paramount, I think we can all safely agree on that point?" he asked to the group, with a collective murmur of agreement being the response. Holding up a hand though, he continued "However, I think we need to be responsible about this and figure some things out."

"Like what Mr. Prime Minister?" Truman asked

"Well for starters, how is this defence going to be coordinated? What will our obligations be, if any? How will benefits be apportioned to each member? Will it be by contribution, because if so, then I think I speak for some of the small powers here when I say that won't do at all!" Smuts and Evatt nodded as he continued "And finally, and possibly most importantly, how will our armed forces in this alliance be organized? Will our forces have independent command, or will others be directing them? Because while of course New Zealand will fight to defend Earth,if we join this group, will we be expected to surrender the command of our militaries to the larger nations of the alliance?. Generals coordinating or even leading an expeditionary force is one thing, but when you say global and greater peace, it sounds like you're talking about something much bigger than us just throwing a few units at the problem and calling it a day."

Truman though for a moment as he processed the barrage of questions, which to be fair, were all legitimate points. Much as it would make the whole damn thing simple, Fraser was right, they couldn't just ask member nations to give up the command of military forces for the SGI if they were going to keep the reason for it a secret. He knew a lot of people in every nation weren't keen to see greater foreign involvement and commitments. Payouts for contributions would also be one of those matters as well. While it was one thing to say that of course all members should share in the research and the benefits of the program, would the larger nations really want their hard work to be given away? The risk of security leaks were always present too and given the time, money and other resources to needed to invest in such a feat, would everyone be so willing to share what could be incredible leaps forward in technological progress? This latest war had shown after all, the prowess of the march forward when it came to R&D.

"You're right, Mr Prime Minister." Truman spoke. "This isn't a small problem we can just throw things at and call it good. Quite frankly, we're looking at the long term when discussing this plan, something on the magnitude of years, if not decades. Obviously things will have to come in phases and increments as we work our way forward but for the short term, if you'll look at your dockets, is as follows." Truman opened his own folder and thumbed through several pages before getting to the one he wanted.

"We need to get our nations comfortable with the idea of working with each other permanently, yes, we know, theres a lot of sentiment across the globe to just pull back and settle down, especially after the war. We have to do our best to combat this attitude because, like it or not, this alien threat is something we'll have to face one day, and the sooner we can do so as a united front the better. For this beginning portion of the alliance, what the plan is is to have groups from each nation coordinating with each other and working to form a cohesive unit, but still distinct and independent for each nation. Cooperation will be just that, cooperation, no integration, no subservient commands, just an agreement among allies to assist each other if they need be. Give it a few years, and then we can publically start talking about more integrated units and command structures. The ultimate goal here, decades down the line, is to basically have our alliance be able to cohesively respond to any hostile incursions here on Earth if such an event were to happen. The more integrated our militaries can become, the better. It would mean more smooth transitions between commands, access to greater and greater resources, and most importantly, it would prevent nations from becoming lynchpins to defence when it comes command. Though again, I acknowledge that this is the very long term goal and agenda and that all is strictly for the public side of the alliance. In private, I think we can all agree, our forces protecting the Stargate and engaging in any operations going off world will be far more representative of our cooperation and will feature a greater integration of command and operations." Truman finished to a chorus of agreement from the men.

Fraser had returned to scribbling some notes and after a few minutes spoke once more. "And again, how should benefits be apportioned in this hypothetical alliance? As I said if we go purely by how much one nation contributes, than most of us here won't be able to match or even come close to contributing what the United States or the U.K can. It would be poor form for us to throw our lot in this and not see much benefit come from the program, especially when it comes to technologies."

Minister Evatt chimed in as well. "In addition, many of our governments are quite committed to fulfilling our promise to the voters. Our people are tired of war and of the war's economy. Prime Minister Chifley is adamant to continuing his pledge to build a better state for the people of Australia. Better healthcare, more universities and public utilities, a stronger safety net. What would our expected contribution be and what will we get out of it? We can hardly justify large expenditures towards military endeavors when we have to keep the main reason for such an alliance a secret, and while we will have to approach some in the Shadow Cabinet to explain this situation, we can hardly barge in and demand they go along with our plans."

"That's understandable." Truman said as he spread his arms to the group. "I'll be honest, the dual nature of this alliance proposal, of creating a united front here on Earth while secretly keeping the SGI supplied and funded will be difficult, so I'm open to any and all proposals from all of you. I feel that from the inception of this idea, it needs to be based on unity among the participants, otherwise we won't have a snowball's chance of actually coming together when the situation might become dire enough for it to warrant a mass mobilization or deployment."

The room was quiet for a moment before the assembled groups returned to speaking among themselves, the low cacophony was broken by a soft voice carrying over the room.

"While I of course believe that deciding on these political matters are of paramount importance, perhaps first and foremost, we should discuss more of the tactical matters relating to this Initiative, specifically what we've learned about our foe." Prime Minister Jan Smuts spoke, slowly rising out of his seat as he addressed the assembly. Truman looked at the older man, wracking his memories about the briefing he'd received about all the leader present. Smuts was something of a respected figure in the Commonwealth, the old man had been some kind of commando in his youth, back when the settlers of the area fought a war against the British, and later had been a general. Truman supposed out of all the men present he'd likely have some of the most military experience, or at least enough to be able to appreciate tactics and and other more localized facets of information.

"Of course, Mr. Prime Minister." Truman said, meeting his gaze.

"This Stargate is the only known method of egress and ingress from Earth to other worlds is it not?"

"Well as the dockets say, they're the only known method, though given the advanced nature of the Goa'uld, its quite likely they possess other technologies to travel between the stars, an ability that we sorely lack. As we've seen, such abilities do exist."

"Hmm, yes, and we've so far had two armed encounters with this group."

"Correct."

"And as Mr. Fraser pointed out, we've managed to...acquire a fair sum of technology from a raid we launched against them."

"Indeed we did."

"And you are certain that none of the opposing survivors gleaned any … threatening knowledge regarding the Earth?"

"We are. The precautions that were taken ensured that fact. Earth is secure for the time being."

"Hmm, and what precautions are those?"

"Well, during the raid in question, a smokescreen was deployed to obscure the dialing code for Fort Roosevelt. At Fort Roosevelt itself, the base is built near a natural gas pocket that we've managed to tap into. Our onsite fail safe is to overload those pipes with gas and then spark them, causing an explosion that should level the base. In addition, we've rigged several of the staff weapons back on Earth to fire through the gate in the event obstructions are placed in front of it. If Fort Roosevelt was to be compromised and the gate blocked, we'd fire a number of staff shots through to remove any obstacles then implement our own contingencies from our end."

"And those are?"

"Well in a few years, it'll be to push a nuclear bomb through the gate and level the other side, but since production of those is limited right now and heavily scrutinized, we've settled on an alternative. We've rigged up a rail on our end to shuttle through a modified sixteen thousand pound block buster bomb through the gate, that has enough power to blow off anything near the gate. Afterwards, a battery of incendiary mortars and explosives will follow through, followed by a number of mustard gas canisters. On Earth, the defences have already been detailed in the docket."

"But what about operations away from Earth? How was we ensuring the safety of not only our outposts, but of Earth as well? No offence Mr. President, but from what I've seen and read so far, we've been getting lucky. We've not lost any personnel to the enemy, by which I mean we've yet to see one of our soldiers captured, and the compromised soldiers who'd been assimilated by these snakes were neutralized. We can't rely on this though, surely you don't believe that your luck so far can hold indefinitely? All it would take is one prisoner, one person who knows the gate address, and Earth is lost. If these aliens do have transport capacities beyond the gates, then even if we block off ours, they'll still be able to approach from the stars."

"We have already considered this possibility. Standing policy, which we thankfully have yet to have to exercise, is to … not allow prisoners to be taken."

"You can't mean …"

"I do. And I have no doubts that, should the need arise, our men will carry out that order."

"Do you now?" Smuts said shaking his head "Its so easy to craft policy, to create an order that will seemingly give us the best security, but that only assumes it will always be followed. Tell me, do you honestly believe that a soldier will murder one of his fellows in cold blood? Do you expect them to be able to, at the drop of a hat, be willing and able to train their gun on their friends and pull the trigger? To do so while looking at a man he'd fought beside, bleed beside, trained beside? Sure we can detail it a thousand and one times, how the safety of Earth is paramount, how one sacrifice is for the greater good, but in the field, when things have gone sour, while people are frantic, do you honestly expect that such an order can be followed in such a circumstance? Even if our men follow it ninety nine percent of the time, that still leaves the one, and that's all it will take…" he finished as he let his voice trail off, the room silent as they soaked in the man words.

As he retook his seat, he spoke again "Any contingency which asks that we disregard our most basic instincts, moralities and aversions is a contingency doomed to failure when these natural responses have to compete with our artificial expectations."

Bevin spoke up. "Obviously, it's an imperfect solution, rest assured, that is not the only precaution. We have also had some of our best people laying plans for other contingencies. In light of recent events, both the United States and the United Kingdom have begun to arrange for active implementation of these plans."

"And what plans are those?" Fraser asked

"Colonies. Offworld safepoints where earthly civilization can be preserved. Places of refuge we plan to establish to ensure that, should the worst befall Earth, our people, our culture, will survive. These sites will become home to groups of people who are willing to brave a new frontier, to carve out these bastions of civilization from scratch. In time, these colonies will be as capable of supporting modern civilization as any first-world countries cities."

"'In time?'" Prime Minister Louis St. Laurent finally spoke again.

"You can't expect them to go from prefabricated structures to towering buildings and full infrastructure overnight. It will take time before these colonies are sophisticated and wholly self-sustaining."

"That's understandable, but how much time are you talking about?"

"Optimistically, twenty years. Realistically, closer to a half-century before they're on par with modern cities."

The Prime Minister's gaze narrowed as he looked around the room, the corners of his mouth narrowing. "Twenty to fifty years...Gentlemen, you do realize the type of work needed to build a city, and to make one from scratch is no meager endeavour, especially one on what would be an unsettled frontier. Add to that the need for secrecy, and this project will make an already slow process more difficult. And those are resources we also need to use to defend Earth. Tell me, are you planning to continue exploration efforts while this building occurs?"

"Well, of course." Truman said, returning the man's gaze.

"Then I tell you now, this is not going to work. We'd be dividing our resources between our exploration and defence endeavours while trying to make these secondary cities and posts viable. You say twenty to fifty years, do you honestly expect that we can conceal our presence for that long while we build? As the honorable Mr. Smuts said, it only takes one and if our operations are compromised in that twenty to fifty years, before the colonies can be self sustaining, the outcome would be apocalyptic!"

"So what do you propose then Mr. Prime Minister."

"Simple. Until we have these back up colonies built, from what you've said we've uncovered several worlds already without a Goa'uld presence. I say, if we're going to do this, then until we have a secure foothold and redundant locations built up, we don't explore anymore. As you've said, so far, the enemy doesn't know where we are, and we've managed to secure a number of their own technologies for our own use. Add to that the base at Heliopolis, which in and of itself might hold a treasure trove of technology, and we have absolutely no incentive to continue stomping around the stars in our current state. I say nestle down in the holdings we've found and start to build up. Make our fall back points, and in the meantime, work at understanding these technologies, both from the Eagle Warriors and from Heliopolis. If it's going to take us decades to make sure our off world locations are that secure in material and personnel, then we'll have plenty of time to try and crack these technologies. We've captured parts for flying machines that use no discernable engines, weapons that can kill with bolts of energy and others that can incapacitate our foes, to say nothing of the metallurgical properties of the armor we've secured. Until we gain more of an understanding of these and possibly reproduce our own copies, then we have no business being out there until we're good and ready to meet the threat. Once we have a better technological base, once our own weapons systems and defences have become more sophisticated, only then should we go venturing out once more because otherwise, we'll be gambling on our luck."

Smacking a hand on the table the man looked around at the assembly "And that's something Earth cannot rely on!"


	21. The conference continues

Fort Roosevelt

One Week Prior

Sergeant Shepard was sitting on a bench outside Fort Roosevelt's main complex, which had expanded to include a proper aircraft hangar and runway, though in reality, even those were little more than a large building thrown together with corrugated metal and a smoothed out portion of dirt. It had been realized that they would need to expand their coverage abilities, so the base was now home to a fleet of three Piper Cubs, all modified for additional fuel capacity, while two more were stationed at smaller outposts, mainly just fuel caches, on the edges of the explored territory.

Shepard watched as Simmons oversaw the prepping of one of the Cubs, loading it up onto a trailer to be hauled out to one of the outposts. Normally again, these planes would be supervised by trained engineers, but since those were currently in short supply and the main engineer had some kind of stomach bug, Simmons volunteered. Luckily the Cubs were fairly idiot proof, and his job at the moment mainly involved making sure the fuel trucks got to all three, and double checking with the pilots to see if everything that was needed was there. The hangar like facilities also doubled as a machine shop, and so as Simmons went about his final inspection, Shepard glanced over to his tank and saw Morehouse furiously working at the back hatch, his body drenched in sweat and a black liquid.

"Hey Morehouse, that oil change coming along alright?" Shepard called out to his man as he sat comfortably on the bench

"Working on it sir!" Morehouse shouted as he wiped his brow, leaving behind a streak of oil.

"Well alrighty then!" Shepard finished as he took a long draught from his canteen, loudly slurping the contents before giving an extremely satisfied "Ah!" Leaning back, he cracked a smug grin as he looked back at his crew. "Hey Morehouse! Have you tried this Kool-Aid stuff yet? It's pretty refreshing! This cherry flavor is amazing."

"No sir, I'm just a humble man, who likes his simple water!" he shouted back as he took a swig from his own canteen, grimacing as the lukewarm water cascaded down his throat. "Yes sir, good ole fashioned water!"

As he left Morehouse to his work, Shepard began to walk over to the Cubs slowly. As much fun as it was to mess with Morehouse, he still couldn't do too much. The doctor had been very explicit about not straining himself for the next few days and Sanderson didn't seem like the type of doctor you'd want to ignore.

"How's it going?" Shepard asked Simmons as the latter finished making notes on his clipboard.

"Going well, we're just getting the flight ready to investigate those mountains we found a few days ago." he said as he jotted down and scribbled a couple more things before looking back up.

"Oh yeah, I remember hearing about those." Shepard said as he tried to recall the details of their scouting efforts so far. The extensively-explored area around the gate had a radius of nearly a hundred miles, while preliminary scouting had gotten out to almost three. The mountain range spotted on one of the more recent scouting trips was about one hundred and fifty miles further out west. There was talk of how the mountains might contain plenty of ores and minerals that could be useful. There might even be some kind of civilization out there beyond the peaks. The Cubs were being outfitted with radio receivers that covered a wider array of frequencies and each would carry a member of the team who'd work at the transceiver hoping to pick something up. The hope was to pick up any radio signals if there was a civilization out there that possessed such a technology.

…"Problem is, we're approaching the limit with these things." Simmons said as Shepard focused once more, his head still rang occasionally after that smack, but he'd insisted on getting out of medical as soon as possible, he hated sitting on his ass with nothing to do. … Of course, now he was outside medical and he still ended up sitting on his ass with nothing to do, but at least he could change the scenery.

"We've seen pretty much everything in a hundred miles?" Shepard asked

"Pretty much, it's plains in almost every direction, except for those mountains, we haven't seen much. A hundred mile radius isn't that big, Cubs might be cheap, and can glide if they run out of gas, but for long range scouting they're not exactly the best. And if it's more empty in those mountains, then we're going to need to go further out."

"Hmmm, so what kind of planes might we need for better scouting?"

"We need something with range, but is small enough to break down and fit through the gate."

"We should go with the Thunderbolt!" One of the pilots shouted.

"Yeah, if you want a piece of crap! the Lightning is the way to go!" one of the other Cub pilots yelled from his cockpit

"Please, if you guys want something reliable go with the Mustang!" the third pilot joined in as the three began shouting at each other.

"Hey!" Simmons shouted, what did I say about arguing over planes?!" Simmons shouted at the trio, quieting them down as they went back to their tasks "I swear it's like herding cats sometimes." he finished, shaking his head.

"Hmm, also, Simmons, what are you even doing here? Keeping track of the planes and the pilots seems a little out of your paygrade."

"I don't know." Simmons sighed, shrugging his shoulders and letting them fall with an exaggerated droop. "Our whole command structure's been goofy as all hell, I'm hoping once that damned meeting happens we'll get some more officers in here and that's something I thought I'd never say in my life."

"Really, is it that bad?"

"Oh yeah. I'm still the go to guy to send through the gate with the bubble suit, so that'd be more of a technician rank, lower than what I'm at, but then I get told, "Oh go keep an eye on the Cubs!" so that's some kind of Warrant Officer rank. Then I'm doing a ton of side administration stuff and helping Don fix small problems here and there through the base and the rest of the program, so that's some kind of junior lieutenant grade stuff. For god's sakes, I'm a sergeant, I'm supposed to be leading a fire team, not coordinating base building!"

Shepard winced "Ouch, that sucks, hopefully they won't have you doing too much more weird shit. Me, I've got my tank and my boys, that's all it's ever been and frankly I like it that way, nice and simple. Which reminds me. Morehouse! I think those spokes need a good scrubbing! Make sure you get that after the oil!"

"Mrphm!" was all the tanker shouted as a jet of oil shot at his face as he frantically ducked down and began turning his wrench as fast as he could.

Heliopolis, same time

With the lockdown resolved, Ernest and Catherine returned to Heliopolis, to continue their research there. Ernest had been spending a great deal of time in the atomic projection room, trying to decipher the code used. So far, they'd recorded more than a thousand individually distinct molecular patterns, ranging from ones using known elements to strange compounds using many of the unknown elements.

Ernest tapped the projector, "turning the page" to a new display, and he and Catherine scanned it, looking for any of the now-familiar molecules to isolate them and begin working on discerning new ones.

"H2O!" Catherine called, pointing out what they'd determined to be one of the most frequently-shown molecules.

"CO … No, CO2!" Ernest called, recording furiously in his notebook. The two of them danced around the room, the changing perspective bringing to light unseen connections.

Their earpieces crackled. "Heliopolis base, this is Area 52. Doctor Littlefield, are you there?"

"This is Littlefield. Go ahead." Ernest answered, checking his watch. It was Heliopolis' daily dial-out to Earth so both sides could send status updates. Usually they didn't contact Ernest unless something was needed.

"We've got some … interesting news. The voice said "The Roswell wreckage … they've managed to recover some text from inside the craft. It wasn't much just some metal with writing inscribed on it."

"Anything we've seen before?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Marcus. It was runic text, actually they said specifically it was Proto-Norse script, very similar to-"

"The Norse script here!" Ernest jogged to the other end of the room, looking at the pattern of text splashed against one of the four corners of the room, splaying his hands against the wall as he scanned the runes, his eyes moving in a frenzy. He began babbling rapidly before Catherine got him to slow down.

"Catherine! Do you realize what this means?!" He labored as his chest puffed in and out, his breaths short.

"I do."

"At least one of the races that built this place is still out there! And they've visited Earth! Recently!" Ernest blurted out excitedly, missing what his former fiancee had said.

"Is that good though, Ernest?" Catherine raised her eyebrow. "So far all this proves is now there's two aliens we need to look out for. How do we know if they're friendly? Are sure they aren't allied with the Goa'uld?"

The words passed through Ernest's ears though as he continued to look as the runes, only barely aware of the room around him. "Have you deciphered what any of it says?"

"Two words. 'Asgard' and 'vessel.'" the radio replied.

"Any specifics as to the context of 'vessel?' Could it mean 'spacefaring vessel?'"

"Possibly. Again, we're looking into it more Dr. Littlefield, this is just the preliminary results."

"Again, how do we know they aren't in league with the Goa'uld?" Catherine asked again, gently grabbing hold of Ernest's shoulder as he gazed at the text.

"Well, look at this place, Catherine! We're pretty sure the Goa'uld script was added later, given how it's carved in above a lot of the original text. That probably means that this place was conquered by one of them, most likely Ra given that his name was written all over the place."

"That may be true, Ernest, but think about it, from what we know so far, the Goa'uld use Egyptian mythological motifs for their identity, from writings to how they style themselves. If these "Asgard" are using Norse motifs then you're right in that they probably visited Earth, but we don't know in what capacity. What if these Asgard are just Goa'uld who have a different culture than the Goa'uld we've met? No offense, but if they really are a few millennia old in terms of being a spacefaring civilization, then it stands to reason that they might have developed cultural offshoots. Look at how many cultures exist on Earth alone. Imagine the possible offshoots of a species that's spread across the universe."

"But we didn't find any parasites in the aliens we recovered from the crash though."

"From what I recall Ernest, those bodies weren't in any shape to be looked at, between the crash and the fire. It took us nearly two months to be a hundred percent sure they weren't even human and most of their insides were soup because of the inertia when that thing crashed. If they had a parasite inside I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have made it either."

"We need to finish the translations here. I'm sure those would clarify some things. Or we could have them run tissue samples through the electron microscope, look for any trace of the Goa'uld canary substance. Or, hell, Kor'us might know something." His voice raised at the last sentences in the way of a person who hoped for something.

"Maybe, but in the meantime, let's get everything we can and make sure we double our recordings, the meeting is happening in week, the president needs all the information we can scrape together when he makes his case."Fort Roosevelt

Samuel stared at Kor'us for several seconds before speaking. "I'm here because a recent discovery has raised questions. Questions I hope you can answer."

"Then ask them."

"Does the phrase 'Asgard' mean anything to you?"

The gasp of horror and the terrified expression on the Jaffa warrior's face spoke volumes more than any words could. Samuel smirked.

"Thank you for that." He said, quite satisfied. If the mere mention of the Asgard elicited such a reaction from the Jaffa, he very much wanted to meet the freakishly proportioned aliens.

Earth

White House

Stargate disclosure conference

Truman nodded at St. Laurent's comments. To a large extent the Prime Minister was right, they had all the technology they'd captured at their disposal, not to mention the vast untapped potential that was Heliopolis. They had a secure and, for the moment, secret base of operations on not only Fort Roosevelt, but Earth as well. For all intents and purposes, they were secure and had the luxury of time. But…

"Under other circumstances, I would agree." Truman said, looking at the Prime Minister. "If it was just us and the Goa'uld, we'd have absolutely no need to press our luck, so to say. However, as I'm sure you saw in the film, we have conclusive proof that there are other aliens out there, the ones we're calling Asgard. And on top of that, those aliens know where Earth is."

"If I may?" Fraser asked, "How are we certain this second group of aliens knows where Earth is? From the docket, it says these was a relatively small craft, with room for maybe three or four crew. It strike me that this looks a lot like a scouting or possibly an exploration craft. What if it was just a group of aliens who stumbled across Earth?"

"That might be possible Mr. Prime Minister, but as I'm sure your scientific advisors have told you, believe me they've been impressing this upon me for weeks now, space is vast, almost infinitely so. In our galaxy alone there are hundreds of billions of stars in the mosaic of the sky, each one unique from one another. As uncomfortable as it may be to think about, our Sun is just one of those hundreds of billions, we're a speck in the cosmic sea. So already the odds of aliens finding us randomly are low, and if you look at the events that have been going on the past few years, it would have to be an enormous cosmic coincidence for an alien ship to just by happenstance come to our world, just as we're starting to explore the greater galaxy."

"Hence why using the gate is risky." St. Laurent spoke back up, his voice calmly carrying over the room. "It uses a unique address for each world it's on, and if an alien were to see us dialing Earth, they'd know exactly where it is, or at least what planet to dial. From what the report indicates, we're still trying to divine the exact meaning of the glyphs around the gate, but it stands to reason that the aliens who made these rings would know their true meaning. While the SGI has been using proxy locations for their return trips, it still will only take one compromised person to reveal the location of our off world bases or even Earth. If these aliens can really subserviate a person to their will so easily like they did to this Lieutenant Powell, then unless we compartmentalize our information to such a degree that our off world teams don't know the gate addresses back home, which comes with its own mess of problems, anybody is a potential security breach waiting to happen." The Prime Minister finished as he sat back down.

"I understand I might just be going in circles here, but when it's a matter of global security and the future of our species, I'm inclined to be a bit...cautious."

The group began to speak to themselves for a bit, as delegates consulted with their own parties or even began to converse with their neighbor for a bit. Truman decided to allow them time to process this next tidbit of information before they proceeded. He was trying to be as gentle as possible with these proceedings, as much as he just wanted everyone to be on the same page. St. Laurent was right, this was a matter of not just global security, but the future of the human race. They were all walking on eggshells, and no one wanted to be the one who brought the foot down.

Clearing his throat, he brought the assembly's attention back to him and his table. Nodding respectfully. "Prime Minister St. Laurent is right to a large extent, there is quite a bit of risk involved with going beyond our own settled area of influence and yes we do have a wide scope of resources at our disposal, but to reiterate, we're very limited in what we actually know and what we're actually capable of right now. If we were to hunker down, we'd gain that measure of security, true, but we'd lose a lot of our flexibility. As we've seen there are in fact other civilizations out there, not just the Goa'uld and the Asgard, but based on the Heliopolis text, there are at least three other alien species out there we've yet to discover, and given the vastness of space, it stands to reason there might be far more. It's possible that some of these other civilizations oppose the Goa'uld. I have included a report of a session between the Jaffa Kor'us and Samuel Marcus. Kor'us reacted with abject fear to the mere mention of the Asgard. If we can find one, just one advanced civilization that opposes the Goa'uld, particularly these Asgard, then we'll have found not only a possible ally to help keep us safe, but also a partner who could help us bootstrap our technological development by leaps and bounds. Right now we're just scavenging and hoping for the best, if we can find allies…" Truman spread his arms as he let the sentence hang over the room. "It's a big universe out there gentlemen, and the reality is, Earth will need allies. We need to find these other civilizations and make contact."

"And then there's the tactical element." Jan Smuts spoke up, looking around the room. "The fog of war gentlemen. If we're going to be waging a campaign from the shadows, and realistically, that's all we'll be capable of for a long time, we'll need to know what the enemy's movements are. If we barricade ourselves behind our fortress, we'll lose that element. Even if we opt to not explore, not sending out expeditions is out of the question, we simply must gather any information we can about what they might be planning, be it so we can either strike ourselves, or assist any allies."

"Finally there's simple resources." Secretary Brevin piped in "If we're going wage a war against an interstellar empire, we'll need as many resources as we can get our hands on, so to speak. One planet alone will have massive numbers of resources to exploit, but to get them all would take time. If we can find other worlds with easier to access deposits or other resources, that's less time we'll have to worry about establishing such a supply network. If we can find trade partners, even better. Plus there could be more ruins out there, we're already prepared to reap enormous benefits from Heliopolis, and that's mostly from those ear devices. Imagine what we could find in an intact abandoned alien city, or other locals.

St. Laurent nodded as he heard the other leaders speak. "Those are excellent points gentlemen, I do concede that while it is a risk, exploring definitely does have significant potential benefits. If we are going to go down that route though, I have a suggestion."

"What?"

"Why don't we let the world know?"

"What?!" was the collective response

"It makes sense. The easiest way to ensure the most resources for this program is to bring the world in on it. Not only would we have access to the entire globe, but we'd better be able to coordinate defences and possible locations to stockpile sensitive resources, or even make fall back points for our populations. Make it public knowledge, in the face of greater threats, we've seen how different groups can work together. I mean, look at this group gentlemen, here we are, the leaders of the Anglo world side by side working together for the betterment of our planet. Imagine all of the world, united as one against this menace. The entire scientific community working on this technology and solving the mysteries presented before us. The entire manufacturing might of nations and colonies churning out not only the weapons of war we'll need but also the tools to settle the new frontier! The militaries of the world turned against these Goa'uld. Imagine, the numbers of the Soviets and the Chinese, combine with our own ingenuity and tactics with designed tools made by the Germans and other great minds. We'd become the most potent fighting force we've ever been. I believe it makes a great deal of sense to let everyone in."

"You would let the Soviets know?" Truman asked.

"I do not believe Stalin is beyond reason. We have a prisoner who's given us information suggesting the might of the Goa'uld. We know Stalin can recognize a greater threat. He aided us against the Germans and if presented with a credible threat to his nation, and I do believe the Goa'uld qualify as that, then we can rely on him to aid us against the Goa'uld."

"Assuming he doesn't have a fit over the fact that we didn't bring him in immediately. And by 'fit,' I do, of course, mean, 'declare war because he's a raving loony.'" Brevin quipped at the Prime Minister. "Don't forget we're talking about the man who starved out Ukraine a decade ago, how many millions died because of that? And as for the rest of his nation, how many millions more are in those god forsaken prison camps? Noto to mention we're also talking about the man who ordered most of his senior military leadership killed. Oh and the purges, we can't forget about the purges…"

"The point being," Truman said interrupting Brevin's tirade, "At this point, we do not believe informing the world would be a wise decision. People don't want another war, much less one they'll have been dragged into unwillingly. Hell in America alone, if it wasn't for Taft and his amazing cooperation, I'd be fighting an uphill battle just have this conversation with all of you. As long as we keep it secret, as long as the discrepancies caused by the program remain unnoticed, we believe it can eventually be declassified and revealed to the world with minimal backlash."

St. Laurent didn't say anything at first, merely resting his hand on his chin as he thought, he looked as though he gave a small nod before he spoke once more "Nevertheless, even if we keep this secret for now, we still have to plan for the inevitability of public disclosure. A global operation of this magnitude is simply too massive to remain secret forever, no matter how secure we try to keep it. And when the secret gets out, we have to make sure the world is ready. The simple existence of some of these technologies are going to shake some people's worldviews, throw in aliens, other worlds, wars in the heavens, and you have a recipe for a panic as people's perception of what is normal and what is not is shattered. We'll have to make sure we have effective screening processes in place since these Goa'uld can hijack our bodies, and that's the perfect proxy for any kind of witch hunt. We must, if nothing else, have a plan leading to eventual disclosure, a plan which will ensure that the world does not react negatively to it. Nothing breeds a ground for ill conceived reactionaries than a panic at the unknown."

"What would you suggest?"

"We should start by ascertaining the reactions of the public of various nations to the idea of intelligent life. This 'Asgard' vessel's crash-landing may well be in our best interests. We can discern who believes the initial reports that it was, in fact, an alien vessel, which I must say, your suppressing almost immediately can only serve to fuel rumors. With that in mind, we can begin to see how many people respond positively and how many respond negatively. I would suggest a slow dissemination of any technological benefits down to the public, using any knowledge and technology gained to begin to advance the people."

"That would make sense." Truman said "We've already got several surpluses of tools from the War that we're preparing to roll out to the civilian market. If we can slowly parcel out technologies to the public, especially ones that we can live with the Soviets likely acquiring through purchases, we'll be able to improve everyone's lives and get the rest of the world closer to a technological base that'll be useful for a possible war."

Evatt and Fraser whispered to each other for a moment, before Fraser spoke up to the assembly. "We also need to keep our populations moving forward in terms of wanting more and more scientific discovery, as well as to create a possible smokescreen for releasing so many new technologies. Perhaps we should start small, focus on our own solar system and exploring it. If we can advance the worldview of the populace piecemeal, slowly adjusting them to a new, larger reality, in time, perhaps they will simply look at disclosure with interest and acceptance."

"And what would you suggest for the next step after that?" St. Laurent asked.

"Well, while it may sound pie in the sky, as the phrase goes, the best chance to kill two birds with one stone here is to start a public space program. We have to achieve spaceflight. We have to open people's minds to the possibilities of whatever may lay beyond Earth."

Truman nodded "As is noted in the brief you all received, one of the concessions made by my government when the decision to cut the Navy back was that they would be permitted to have control over military space development. We can certainly open up the doors to international cooperation there."

"I don't mean military spaceflight. While certainly we'll need to keep up development there, I believe the people would respond best to a civilian space agency, one without potential ulterior motives, versus a military program, which would almost certainly be seen as an antagonistic move." Fraser said as he returned to scribbling his notes

"Given the purpose of this meeting as the first step to establishing an international coalition for mutual protection and cooperation, perhaps one of the first principle points of this international organization's charter could be the establishment of an international space program, one with the intent of promoting the exploration of space as an endeavor for all mankind. Perhaps, eventually, we could open this space program to nations not directly involved in the organization, widen our pool of minds to draw from as technology advances." Evatt said, extending an open hand forward.

There was a low murmur of agreement and Truman had to agree that it sounded like a good idea. All the governments would probably have to do a little legislative jockeying to get their constitutions onboard with funding an international space program, but if they could frame it as saving money since each nation would be kicking in a bit rather than one going alone…

The meeting continued for several more hours as the group began discussing the minutiae of implementing a civilian program for space exploration. While they still had a lot of work to do on the rest of the alliance, it seemed to be unspoken they'd hammer out this portion of the proceeding first so they'd have a framework to work with for the rest of the conference. Notes were passed back and forth and percentages were discussed to say nothing of the myriad of other small details. After several hours, Truman suppressed a yawn and looked at the clock, they'd been at this for nearly the entire day

Clearing his throat, he stood. "Gentlemen, I believe we've made good progress so far here today, I motion that we adjourn for tonight, and resume this meeting tomorrow. No doubt many of you will probably have things you'll want to discuss with your fellows." Gesturing to an open safe he continued "If you'd just go ahead and put your documents in there, I think we can call it a day. Tomorrow I'll have more technical information to present to the rest of the group…"


	22. Weapons and Negotiations

Area 52

Five days previously

Lieutenant Bennett stared at the contraption he'd been presented with. It measured slightly over two feet long, with two metal grips, one reminiscent of a rifle grip, the other a forward pistol grip design, welded onto the heavily-modified staff weapon components. The cowling around the emitter head had been stripped away, iron sights had been added, along with a mount for a scope, with the trigger button relocated to the rifle grip and the power adjustment dial moved to a position where it could be thumbed by the hand on the pistol grip. The device's power cell now resided in the stock, just behind the rifle grip.

"Impressive." he said handing the weapon back to the bespectaclled scientist. "What are the drawbacks?"

"Wellllllllll, it doesn't quite work yet." the man said jovially

"What?"

"We're still figuring out the internal mechanics."

"So we can't even shoot these things yet?"

"Shooting them isn't the issue. The issue is, we've been running into problems with the plasma containment. We believe, at present, that whatever electromagnetic system propels the plasma forward was compromised by one of the modifications. We don't yet know if there's any way to make the modifications without gunking up the system. We're going to be running some tests by making singular modifications to some of the other examples, to see which one or ones might be the cause of the problem. We've also ripped a couple of them apart, and the emitters seem to have some kind of rings running the length of the head, a barrel of sorts made out of them. These rings are of a material that we believe to be similar or identical to the Stargate's primary substance. Current research into the material indicates - and this is truly fascinating part - that it is a room-temperature superconductor! And we're only scratching the surface of the possibilities here! We're a tad reluctant to crack open too many more of these things, especially if they plan to put the kibosh on exploration at that conference in a few days"

"'Room-temperature superconductor… Which means what exactly?"

"A room-temperature superconductor, which until now was purely hypothetical, achieves superconductivity at temperatures at least as high as zero degrees Celsius."

"And that's high?"

"Exceptionally high, for a superconductor! Hell, the whole idea for the technology is still new, we've only taken tiny steps these past few years towards making anything remotely close to superconductive. Until we nabbed these babies, most work in the field was just sitting in rooms coming up with formulas and theories for how we might get to where we need… Anyways most theories said that superconductors would have to achieve superconductivity in the negative triple degree celsius range. This material, though, is superconductive at true room temperatures and above, in its natural state, on an Earth-normal planet. Current analysis suggests it may very well maintain its superconductivity well into the triple digits, possibly above. This material can revolutionize science as we know it! We could make more powerful computational devices, high powered magnets, improved power generation and…., " the scientist looked over to see Bennett's eyes glazed over. Sighing, he lowered his voice "And we could in theory make high powered rail guns and cannons, or a variety of other electromagnetically-propelled systems."

"I heard big guns, I can understand that!" Bennett said as he focused once more

"Yes we can, but we'll need a lot of other technologies first. We'll need the more powerful electrical generation and the efficient mediums to transfer and store said electricity. If you want the big guns, then you'll need the computers to aim the things, they'd be flinging stuff far faster than anything we've made before. Then you need the metallurgy to make sure this thing will be sturdy and a whole bunch of other stabilizations."

"How fast?"

"In theory, several thousand miles per hour."

"Goddamn, that's crazy."

"Oh yeah, if we can get those things working, the sheer force of impact from any kind of rail weapons will be as powerful, if not more so, than a lot of our bombs." he finished with an upward tone that was betrayed by a frown.

"Hey, cheer up!" Bennett said as he gingerly set the plasma weapon back on the bench. "A lot of those techs will make a ton of people's lives better and like you said, we're going to need to go through a lot of phases before we get to the big guns."

"True, I'd just rather they not be used here, we have a nasty habit of always using whatever tool is at our disposal when we need to fight and the new things are always the ones we use with the most abandon."

Washington Conference

Day 4

The assembled group of men all looked tired. Four days of work and negotiation had left many exhausted, even with their generous accommodations and with the days of negotiation coming to a close, many were both excited to get back to their countries and determined to get the joint cooperation with the SGI off the ground.

Each man had a framework for the treaty before them. The document was in its entirety all of the agreements and deals made for both SGI and non-SGI cooperation, the latter parts being the ones that would be available for public record, with the former being reserved for higher level officials eyes only until such a time the program could be revealed to the public.

They'd spent the past three days discussing the various details that would come with a treaty of this magnitude. Again, normally such terms and agreements would have been done at the hands of staff and other lower level dignitaries, but the magnitude of the program demanded an unprecedented level of attention from the top and many of the men were reminded of their early days in politics where they might have once done drafting work such as this.

As the courier left, Truman opened the envelope. There were multiple copies of the report, ready to be distributed to the rest of the delegation. Clearing his throat, he looked around.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure you've all been pondering the same question. Would it be possible to cooperate with these Goa'uld? I appreciate that none of you have broached the subject so far, considering peace or no, we'll need international cooperation to deal with all extra-solar matters and that's what we've focused on. But as to the Goa'uld specifically, we've been working the past few days on figuring this out. As you've probably noticed from the mission reports, we've been the main instigators of conflict with these beings, and our interrogation of Subject One, Kor'us, has been limited. The docket we're passing around now is of our latest attempts at making any attempts at overtures to the Goa'uld."

Truman turned the cover page and began to read the contents within...

Fort Roosevelt

Six Days Previously

Samuel glanced over at the other surviving Jaffa besides Kor'us. Over the last three days, they'd witnessed them heal at an unprecedented rate, recovering from life-threatening injuries in a little over twenty-four hours. They'd been pronounced stable two days previously, shortly after the lockdown was lifted, and had healed steadily ever since. The still kept them unconscious with medication, though it was noticed that they were growing alarmingly more and more resilient to the doses as they administered them. According to Doctor Sanderson, the amount they were giving him was enough to kill a healthy adult, but he was somehow weathering the effects fairly well, though the cocktail they had to administer was now ever changing to keep pace with his body. He then glanced back at Kor'us and spoke, carefully going over the rehearsed lines in his head. "Kor'us, after extensive deliberation with my superior officers and the leaders of our world, we've reached a decision. We've decided that we wish to rejoin Ra and his empire. Of course, before we do so, we'll just need some basic information."

"What sort of information?" Kor'us tilted his head as best he could against the pillow, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the agent.

"Worlds under the Supreme System Lord's control, for starters. Places where we could reasonably approach him and make our request for his rule known, we've felt that returning to the world where we found you might be...problematic. Secondly, we'd love a better understanding of your lord's mindset, we want to understand any desires he might have and how we might help fulfill those.. Thirdly, education in the language of the Goa'uld. While these translation devices are quite sufficient, we feel it would be best to be able to make our plea for acceptance … No, our plea for mercy, in his own tongue. Do you think you could help us with that Kor'us?"

He pondered what the agent said, his word pouring over his mind. Did they truly wish to join Ra? Such a find would be a boon and he'd be well remembered, perhaps...no. Had they not just several days prior acted as though they might be equals to the gods? The sheer gall of their ignorance and attitude, surely that couldn't have changed so quickly. But if the leaders changed their minds and remembered the past...

"Curse these drugs." Kor'us though as he shook his head . He tried to process everything, but still everything felt cloudy. Were they trying to befuddle him again? He wanted to believe, but were they trying to trick him? So many questions the past few days, the terrifying revelation that they at least knew something of the Asgard, and the fog had yet to lift. He wanted...no needed to leave, but how?

He breathed deep as he looked at the man, silence still permeated the room. The man steadily drummed his fingers against his own leg as he waited for his answer, staring at him with a blank expression and a slightly tilted head, it betrayed nothing.

"If I...of course, fool." Kor'us thought as he finally had a brief moment of more clarity. Facing the agent, he smirked.

"So, you wish to rejoin the gods. Most wise of you agent, though you're going to approach the situation incorrectly."

"Oh?"

"You do not approach our lord, none do so without his permission, things not worthy of his attention are dealt with by others, and make no mistake, your world, like all worlds, is beneath him. His emissaries, his agents, they conduct all these matters for those beneath his gaze. My people and a few more minor gods are the conduits for this. If you want to start the rejoining, then it is simple. Just release me. Send me back to the world you found me, it is our world, my people are there. Once among them, I can tell them of your people, of your world, and your desire and they'll come. Just send me back with your location, and everything will be as it should." he finished with a sharp inhale. His chest still pained him, but had improved greatly in the past several days, or however long his confinement had been; he'd had no way to gauge the passage of time and had been forced to rely on gut feelings to determine when to enter kel'no'reem.

The agent laced his fingers together as he looked at Kor'us, tapping both his second fingers to his chin.

"That's tempting Kor'us, real tempting. You have to understand though, my superiors are very nervous. By your presence here, you know we've already gotten off to a bad start with Ra and many are worried about his wrath being brought down upon us. We feel it'd be better to keep our location secure, just for the moment mind you, until we can appeal to him for mercy. While I have no doubt that you would be utterly sincere in presenting our case to the other...emissaries as you called them, we'd prefer if we could speak as directly as possible to Ra."

"You do not dictate terms to a god." Kor'us said, forcing himself to remain calm. His best chance lay in convincing these people to release him, of connecting with them, as much as the thought pained him. "Especially not to one such as Ra. He has killed others for less. Even the most minor of slights against him have brought his wrath upon worlds. If you will not give me this world's location, at least give me that of an outpost, a minor world you have little use for, something that can be used as a meeting ground. If you truly wish for Ra to assume his rightful place over you, then that is the only way.

The agent was silent for a moment as he was in thought, staring at Kor'us for several moments once more. He found it a slight bit unsettling the way the human held at unblinking stare, but the worse was the lack of expression, betraying no emotion behind his face.

"I'll have to talk with some people, see what we can do. As a soldi-warrior, I'm sure you can understand the need for keeping certain locations secret."

He was about to respond that only cowards relied on secrecy, but held his tongue, these humans were seemingly becoming more amenable, and even Kor'us realized that now wouldn't be the best time to provoke them. Instead he just silently nodded as the agent left the room.

…

"So what the hell are we going to do?" Sam asked the group as they sat around the conference room. Kor'us's offer left many equal parts skeptical and worried. The Professor and Ernest had come from Heliopolis to discuss the matter with the rest of the senior staff.

"Christ if I know. Hammond said. "This is way beyond my pay grade, I'd usually just say have the generals or other higher ups decide on it, but since we're not getting any senior officers until after this conference and we need the information for the damn thing."

"Yeah in hindsight our organizational structure might have been a bit poorly planned out, but here we are now, we've gotta deal with this, in less than optimal circumstances. What do we do gentlemen?" Langford asked the group.

"Well, we're sure as hell not going to be giving up the location of any of our bases, I think we can all safely agree on that." Sam said to the collective nods of everyone else. "So if that's the case, then the only location we have available would be ES-4. The location works fine, we just use the place as a transit area mostly, but then the next question is, do we trust Kor'us and his fellows to be on the up and up if they deal with us?"

"Well, do you trust him?"

"Hell no, the guy's a fanatic, he believes in this god of his completely and he's still obviously pissed at us on account of us blowing him up. That's not a very good combination when dealing with a potential diplomatic problem."

"Well what are our other options then? Langford asked "We can't just go traipsing back to the world we abducted him from, that might have its own problems, but we can't exactly trust him to do the work for us."

"What about the other Jaffa we have?" Don asked "Could we use one of them as courier, they might not be as mad or fanatical as Kor'us."

"Doc Sanderson says that he's keeping them under sedation for another week, they're in a lot worse shape than Kor'us, apparently it was a small miracle that they even survived at all."

"Well...do we even have to do this mission right away?"

"Don?"

"Look, I know the president wants this intel for his meeting, but rushing out without any thought has already bit us in the ass more than once. I appreciate the time sensitive nature of this, but the reality is, we're just not equipped to handle this on our own since we still operating on a skeleton of what we should be."

"So what are you thinking?"

"We'll we've got a rough idea of the language of these things, Ernest didn't you say their texts are roughly hieroglyphic or something."

"Yes, it seems like Egyptian play a key role in their written and spoken language."

"Okay, so here's what we do, we send one of our little camera carts though with a giant flag waving behind it that has the Goa'uld words for peace, or treaty, or negotiation, or something like that, written in big letters. We send that through to where we grabbed Kor'us. We leave a small message with it, the address for ES-4 and something that says, oh I don't know "we want to know of the gods. Please come" or something like that. We have some diplomatic types come from the nations of the meeting and have them talk to the guys on ES-4."

"Well what if they blow up the cart again?"

"If they blow up the tiny cart that has the words peace written all over it, I think that might show us that these guys don't really like us. If it turns out that we've been trespassing on a planet we really shouldn't be on, hopefully this might go to show that we didn't know its significance. Again, its not the best idea, but its all I can think of since we don't just want to let Ko'rus go"

Langford began writing furiously on the notepad in front of him, nodding slightly as he continued. "So would I be correct in assuming that in the intervening time, we're going to be preparing ES-4 to deal with guests before hand?"

"Yep, spruce it up to look hospitable, and zoning out firing lines incase they don't want to come in peace."

"Hmmm, well I think this just might work, any objections?" Langford asked to the silent group "Good, then let's get cracking gentlemen."

…

Washington Conference

… "So about a week prior to today, I authorized the SGI to begin constructing temporary facilities and such on ES-4. As the docket shows, they're nearing completion and it lays out what's there, both in terms of possible diplomatic facilities as well as our defensive plans for if negotiations break down." Truman finished his summation to the assembly.

Evatt set the packet down and looked up "So if I'm to understand this, then this attempt at contact and the defence of this ES-4…"

"Will be the first test of our new alliance yes. Our first overtures towards beings of another world won't be dictated by just America, but the world." Truman finished. A silence covered the room for several moments, before a loud thump echoed through the room as Prime Minister smacked his hand on the table.

"Well gentlemen, let's not waste any time!" he said to a loud chorus of agreement.

Over the next week the offices of all the governments of the alliance were a flurry of activity. While most of the efforts were to the public efforts at cooperation, there was a secondary, more silent movement. Small changes in personnel allocations and new structures began to emerge, lost in the tide of other activities. A few higher ranked members were assigned to posts in America, for transoceanic cooperative efforts, work and training. Select soldiers received notifications from superiors about new postings, as part of the first long-term international unit integration.

Moscow

Counter to the flurry of activity in the West, in the monolithic grey offices of the city, the workers in the various branches of the intelligence agencies were working at frenetic pace, processing the reaction and the news coming from the capitalists. An alliance between several of the most powerful nations of the allied block, and one without the U.S.S.R., definitely turned heads and many were trying to make heads and tails of it and its implications.

Sitting in a conference room that was at least five or six chairs overcrowded and stuffier than a locker room, Pavel sat as he tore through several pieces of paper, scanning their contents as he smoked his seventh cigarette of the day. As buzzes of conversations passed back and forth as everyone half shouted, he wiped away the steady stream of sweat accumulating on his brow.

He lived for this.

Staring at his paper though, the surroundings around him melted away as he zeroed in on his work.

"...From the intercepts in London, we're looking at a large number of small scale re-deployments scheduled out for the next few months, most of them to America. Furthermore..." one voice echoed

"...Science and engineering programs between groups…"

"...requisitions and orders…"

"Media?...Media?...PAVEL!" a voice boomed, breaking his fugue. Looking up he saw Boris looking at him expectantly along with the rest of the room.

"Responses in America have been fairly straightforward, there was quite a bit of surprise about the extent of this meeting and its goals, a lot of people though it was just going to be a summit. A few more conservative papers have been critical, worrying about entanglement and such, but with several high profile politicians coming out in favor of this, the general consensus has been positive. The fact that their senate is getting ready to ratify the treaty means this is probably a fairly concerted and solidified effort."

Before anyone else spoke, there was a knock on the open door, a young woman is a simple uniform stood with a clipboard.

"Agent Borodin, Agent Krylov, the sub-director wishes to speak with you."

"We're in a meeting, can we come later." Pavel asked curtly.

She simply shook her head. "He said it was urgent." with a tone of finality that he knew all too well, before she vanished around the corner. Sighing, he grabbed his cane and stood. Sliding a couple papers to the analysts sitting next to him, he and Boris began walking down the hallway, Boris slowing his pace to keep up with Pavel.

"You know what Romanov wants?" Pavel asked

"Hell if I know, for once I don't think I did anything to piss him off" Boris said with a small smile.

"Hmm." was all Pavel said as they approached the office, a secretary rang them through. Inside the director was furiously reading documents, his ashtray already full. The man shook his head as he threw the papers on the deck with a small thump before he looked up.

"Ah good, please shut the door." he said as he gestured at them. As Boris quietly closed the door, Romanov gave a small sigh before speaking. "I'll be brief, the long and short of it, you're being temporarily reassigned."

"What?" they both managed to ask at the same time.

Gesturing with his hands at the pair's synchronicity, he looked at Boris. "Cute." was all he said snidely before continuing "Anyways, yes, you're being sent to one of our embassies to do analytical work, at least that's the story anyways."

"What do you mean?"

"I need you two to carry something sensitive, something crucial to-"

"Courier work!? Are you fucking kidding me!?" Pavel shouted, causing Boris to recoil as Romanov sat stony faced. "We've been here for almost three years now! We're not some junior level grunts, can't you use some of the ambassadorial staff to-"

"Agent Borodin!" Romanov raised his voice slightly "I'll ignore that once, but don't make me do that again. Yes, I know this is beneath your skill set, but this package is of the highest importance and we need to make its transit look as inconspicuous as possible. The embassy is due for some staff rotations, so I'm sending you two because you're my most competent analysts and it works for the cover!"

Pavel stewed for a moment before he took a breath to compose himself. "So where are we being assigned then director?"

"Prague…"


	23. Showtime!

ES-4

Two days later

Don glanced around the site they'd established. The desert made building on the sands difficult, but for the purposes of making the outpost, they didn't need much. A few prefabricated structures now stood about a hundred yards in front of and to the side of the gate. Diesel generators hummed, providing lighting and air conditioning to the buildings in question. Crude sandbag walls formed a semicircle around the gate, providing cover to the troops who would be stationed there. The area in front of the gate was clear of obstruction, though, to permit the trio of turret-mounted machine guns behind the gate clear firing lines without hitting friendlies. A Portcullis had been erected, three inches of steel plating held up only by a chain connected to a winch behind the gate. No chances were being taken. If the Goa'uld were open to peace, then these would just be precautions. If they came out firing, though, these would protect Earth.

Simmons walked up beside him. "Probe's ready to go." he said. "Just waiting on your order."

"Send it through." Don ordered.

The probe slowly trundled through the gate, Don and the others gathered in a building set up as the command center, with all the receiving equipment for the probe's signals. Strapped to the little cart were several banners, most were embolized with the Egyptian hieroglyphs for peace, which the group hoped would translate over to the current Goa'uld language. One of the other banners flew with the images of several Earth symbols for peace, a dove, an olive branch and a Roerich peace banner, its three circles within another circle, all flew proudly as the small cart vanished into the aperture of the gate. As the black and white images cleared up, Don and Simmons were treated to the familiar sight of the an open plain, albeit one littered with wreckage strewn about the field and blast marks pockmarking the ground in front of the gate. Around the whole area, a few small fires still burned, leaving very little of the original grass still there. The camera rotated around showing the area behind the gate, it was in slightly better shape, some of the tall brown grass had survived, but a similar multitude of craters interrupted by the odd wreck also greeted them. Strewn around the ground too were the bodies of multiple figures. Curious, they urged the little cart further, carefully using their remotes to nurse it down the earthen slope that still remained near the gate. Moving forward about twenty feet, it came to a pair of bodies, both wore the armor of the jaffa, though it appeared their forehead tattoos were different.

"Looks like shit heated up since our last visit." Samuel commented

"I'll say...Didn't Kor'us mention that his people were fighting another group?"

"He did." Simmons replied. "Seems they were in the middle of a conflict over this world. We walked into an active war zone, sir. They had every right to shoot at us."

"Feeling sorry for them?"

"Fuck, no! I'm just saying, we might have looked like fair game to them."

"Hang on; we've got movement." Samuel interjected. "Eagle warriors, er, Jaffa, two o'clock. Four of them, looks like."

Don slipped his earpiece in, motioning for the others to do the same. The one they'd planted on the cart, to provide audio as well as translations of the speech, had been turned up to maximum gain. Their own receivers had been muted, so that they wouldn't be transmitting to the Jaffa. They could hear the clomping of boots as the warriors approached. Their leader approached cautiously, examining the cart. It had a thin plate of metal welded to it that had a single message in crude Goa'uld written on it, clearly visible. "Not Goa'uld. Seek meeting with leader of Goa'uld. Willing to meet at this planet." The address for ES-4 followed.

The Jaffa spoke, and a moment later, the translation came through. "Shir'ac, Gren'al, Mar'on, stay with this … thing. I will report to Brun'al, and let our esteemed First Prime decide what to do."

"First Prime? That's what Kor'us said a Goa'uld's right-hand Jaffa is called. We're basically getting sent to the top of the pile." Samuel said.

"What now?" Simmons asked.

Don sighed as he glanced at the monitor, he saw that two of the Jaffa had taken position in front of the cart, while a third had disappeared around the back. As they finished recording the last of the image, he made a motion with his hand as the gate was deactivated and the image vanished.

"Now, we wait."

…

Moscow

The knock at the door stirred Pavel as he absently mindedly poked at the dull grey mush that was his breakfast. Leaning on his cane he stood and made his way to door. Opening it, he saw Boris, early as ever, dressed in uniform with his coat draped over his arm.

"Comrade."

"Ah my friend. How are you?" Boris asked jovially.

Well, just finishing up breakfast if you don't mind waiting for a few minutes."

"Of course, of course, no worries, you know, I don't think you've ever invited me in before! This trip is already starting off splendidly!"

Pavel shook his head lightly as he let the man in, after quickly sealing the door behind him, he scurried back to the table to finish munching down his, what he thought was porridge.

"Want a drink Boris?" he asked before sitting, offering up a small bottle of vodka and a jug of juice.

Raising an eyebrow, Boris eyed Pavel with his offering, a small look colored his appearance though Pavel couldn't tell if it was amusement, or judgement.

"It's nine in the morning, isn't it a little early?"

Pavel shrugged before taking a swig. "Eh, we're just couriers, and we've got a three day train ride to look forward. I'm not really expecting partisans or dastardly westerners on this trip, so I figured what the hell?"

Boris grinned "Wonderfully argued friend, though again I'll have to decline, maybe once we're on the train though."

"Suit yourself!" Pavel smiled before taking another swig. As he began to shovel spoon fulls of the dulo grey softness into his mouth, he noticed Boris looking around his spartan living room. Apart from the couch and the table there wasn't much. The photo of him and Yulia he'd moved to their bedroom long ago so the only thing left on the barren, dull white walls was a small black and white image of a large family outside a farm.

"This you?" Boris asked pointing to a sullen looking teenager in the image, standing next to a larger boy with short cropped hair and a smiling girl with a short ponytail next to him. In front of them was a slightly smaller boy who was missing his two front teeth.

"Yep! Can you tell by my dashing looks?" Pavel asked with a grin

"Eh I was going to say that perpetual frown seems to carry over well."

"Hey now, I'll have you know, my mother said I was a very dashing looking gentleman."

The two shared another laugh as Pavel gobbled the last of his porridge down and quickly washed the bowl. After he cleaned himself, he grabbed his duffel bag and joined Boris at the door. The two made their way down to the car and made their way to the central train terminal in the city. The ride was mostly silent, with Boris occasionally cursing at the odd obstruction or interruption in the road. Still they made good time and eventually made it to the terminal. Handing the car over to a representative, they made their way to the platform, looking for their contact.

"They say who'd we be meeting?" Pavel asked as the glanced around.

"Nope, Romanov just said we'd recognize him when we saw him."

"Well that can mean anything, I know we have to keep things hush-hush but this is….oh Christ."

"Wha-" Boris began to ask when a uniformed man approached them brandishing a briefcase. While the coat covered most of the uniform and the hat dominated most of his head, the man was unmistakably GRU and as he got closer, Boris recognized him from the party a while back.

"Sedlak." Pavel said curtly nodding.

"Agent Borodin." He said with a small smile "I hope the day is treating you well."

"It's fun. Can we cut to the assignment?"

"Oh, sure." Sedlak said as he handed over the briefcase. "It should be pretty routine really, just hand that over to the chief of intelligence at the embassy and he'll give you your assignments."

Pavel grumbled "Why again do they need us to do this? Don't they have people specifically for this kind of job?"

"Hey that decision is above my clearance, I'm just the hand off, but enjoy Prague, think of it like a working vacation!"

Pavel grumbled as he attached the case to a small metal manacle, joining it to his wrist. As the metal clicked into place, he looked up at Sedlak.

"Thank you." he muttered as the man simply nodded and turned away. "Shithead." he murmured under his breath.

"Seriously? Can't you go one day without being an ass?" Boris asked, a half grin half frown formed on his lip as he looked at Pavel.

"Let's go." Pavel gestured to the train.

"They're all gone, if that's what you're wondering." He said, looking as the empty wall in front of him.

"Pardon?" Came Boris's voice.

"The town I'm from, it's about sixty or so kilometers from Smolensk. They were right in the invasion corridor when the war came."

"Oh...I'm, I'm sorry." Boris bit his lip as he looked out the window with a focus Pavel hadn't seen. "I, ah, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories, I tend to do that with some people."

"It's fine." Pavel sighed. "It was bound to come up sooner or later. If you're curious ask now."

"So everyone in that photo, are they...you know?"

"No. Maxim, he was the one missing the teeth, he's working over in some government office in Vladivostok. We'll usually send birthday or christmas letters but that's about all."

"Well that….nice" Boris offered a small shrug as he looked out the window still as the train slowly pulled away from the station, both men slightly jerking as the motion began.

"He's...different. Always fairly quiet even when he was a kid. My parents sent him away just before the war, after everything, now it's like talking to a statue. Even his letters are pretty to the point "oh hi Pavel, things are well, hope you're doing okay.".

Sighing he continued talking to the cabin. "My parents never left their farm, even when the smoke was on the horizon, at least that's what I figure. My father, he could be a stubborn mule, and my mother, well, she would never leave him alone, even if he begged her to."

"Did he?"

"I don't know, truthfully I only found out after I got released from the hospital, and even then it wasn't much, not a whole lot survived in that area. I can only assume…"

"And...the others?" Boris looked tentatively over, glancing out the corner of his eye at Pavel.

"My other brother, Leonid, he was a couple years older than me. Apparently he was at Kursk and his tank caught a round. No one got out."

A pregnant silence filled the cabin for a few moments as neither man spoke. Pavel could see the last question rolling off Boris even as he continued to stare autumn landscape passing them by, the question filling the silent cabin with a buzz of anticipation and curiosity until he couldn't stand it.

"Tamara was our only living sister. She was working at a factory in Leningrad, she...she didn't make it out in time."

Hearing a sharp intake of breath, Pavel looked at Boris who looked out once more before drawing the blinds. Standing he made his way to the door.

"You had the right idea, I'm going for a drink." he said as he began to step out, Pavel motioned that he himself was good as he withdrew a flask. Nodding Boris began to leave, but first stepped backward once more.

"No one got out of that hellhole in time, Pavel." Was all he said before he disappeared to the small car with refreshments.

Pavel would only see him sporadically the next several days.

Heliopolis

"Kor'us has been surprisingly cooperative in teaching me Goa'uld." Ernest said to Catherine. "And I have to say, it's an...interesting language. The simplicity and limited vocabulary make it incredibly dependent on context. For example, one of their words, 'kree,' means, in varying circumstances, 'hey, you,' 'open fire,' 'stop,' 'get over here,' and a hundred other things. It's really almost as though the word was the only sound they could make, so it had to mean anything."

Catherine smiled. "Well, they did start out as sentient parasites. Maybe this 'kree' is phonetically similar to the noise they make when not in a host."

"Hm, that's possible, from what I've seen so far, the language does rely on a lot of dual sentences and structures as well, which could imply a lot of different things about their origin. Unfortunately in that area, Kor'us has been a lot less forward. His idea on Goa'uld origin mirrors a lot of older creation myth ideas, which I'm reasonably confident didn't create them."

"Well regardless, we at least managed to hammer out enough rough phrases to make those banners for the probe, the corroboration with the Egyptian language helped immensely."

"Indeed…" Ernest mused as he looked out the door to his office. The pedestal was there, currently off as no shifts were studying it at the moment. Catherine had insisted he take a break from the device and focus on other projects, here in this case, creating a rough English to Goa'uld translation book for the teams in the event their earpieces malfunctioned. While they'd made some progress on it, Catherine had noticed her former fiance's wandering gaze a few times before.

"Hey." she said gently snapping her fingers. "Come on, I know you want to have another crack at the device, just another couple hours here then you can get back at it."

"I know, I know." he nodded as he looked at her with pleading eyes "But Sam's bringing the new group of linguists up to date and they should be able to handle this. That pedestal Catherine … it holds so much potential, I...I can feel it. That's where I should be."

"I know, Ernest." Catherine replied with a reassuring smile "but right now, our fellows need us here, the rest of command's been busy bringing those diplomats up to speed so they'll be ready to make contact with the Goa'uld."

"Which reminds me, I kind of nodded off at the meeting, we're keeping the permanent off world Embassy on Fort Roosevelt, right?"

"Nodded off? Ernest how late did you stay up with that pedestal this time?"

"... A bit later than I should've." he smiled sheepishly.

With a sigh, she continued. "Yes, Fort Roosevelt will have the permanent embassy, but the diplomats, if we ever make contact with another group, will meet them at a neutral off world site. Right now ES-4 is the current choice for that, but since that's also our transit site we're already looking at several new priorities for worlds whenever we resume exploration. And you need to get more sleep." she finished.

"I know, I know." he smiled as he slipped next to her. "Tell you what, why don't we buckle down, finish this next section and knock off work early and then…" he began to whisper in her ear, eliciting a number small giggles from Catherine, until she began to tap his shoulder, looking up he heard a number of footsteps approaching. With a whirlwind motion, Ernest sprung over his deck and flopped down in his chair as several papers flew to the ground. As he picked them up, he saw a young private leading a number of people through the base.

"...And here's Dr. Littlefield's office." he finished as he turned to face him.

"Ah hello!" he said looking at the group "You're all the new group of off world linguists, correct?" the chorus of small affirmative murmurs confirmed his question. "Excellent, well, Catherine and I are looking forward to working with all of you, we've got some exciting translations and compilations to work on, so I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow!"

The group nodded excitedly as they prepared to move, standing up, Ernest walked over to the private.

"Excuse me, Private…"

"Mahoney."

"Private Mahoney, I though agent Marcus was leading the new group through today?"

"Oh no, he's been on Earth and Fort Roosevelt the past several days. Agent Marcus has been working with several others to bring the diplomats up to speed."

"Oh, okay, I didn't realize that."

"Ah no worries Doc, apparently there was some meeting that went over this, but I wasn't there, I just got my orders so I'm doing the grand tour."

"Well then carry on." Ernest finished as the group departed to go deeper into the castle, as he turned back to the lab, he saw Catherine smugly looking at him.

"You need more sleep..."

ES-4

Don stood by the tent poring over dispatches and other such information coming to him. Despite their watch on ES-4 he still had a lot of paperwork and other organizational tasks to attend to. Obviously nothing sensitive was coming through the gate ,but a lot of small minutiae here and there still required hours of attention.

He'd gotten tired of listening to Ambassador Weber, who'd been sent through from Earth to handle any negotiations that might occur as an official representative of the US government with authority to handle negotiations, talk about how he was so damn excited to have the chance to negotiate a treaty with an alien race and just wished they'd hurry up and respond so he could get to work. He'd finally gotten the ambassador to go inside and wait quietly after pointing out that bitching about it wasn't going to make the Goa'uld come any faster.

Sighing as he signed another document, he looked wistfully at the gate. While they were all on edge waiting for the "Goa'uld" to make contact, after a couple of days, a certain tedium set in. All were impatient to see if they were going to be at war or at peace.

When the unscheduled hum of the gate caught his attention, he checked his side to reassure himself that his holster was in place. Rising, he looked out as the last of the chevrons locked into place.

"Well, here we go." he thought as he began to bark into his radio.

"All personnel, get into positions, we're about to receive our guests."


	24. Chapter 24

ES-2

Five minutes earlier

Tormak grimaced with anticipation beneath the metal helm that enveloped his head as he looked to the Chappa'ai, relishing the chance he'd been given. The strange device that had arrived on Kre'tar, decorated with ancient Goa'uld words for peace, along with many other pictures, presumably also asking for peace, had aroused his lord Ra's attention. While admittedly small, it nevertheless seemed to amuse him. Tormak, still recalled the small smile that had played across his lord's face when the report arrived of the device. His booming voice softened when he passed judgement on the people of the world who sent it. The fools on the other side of the chappa'ai would have their "peace" delivered unto them by accepting subjugation under the Supreme System Lord, or by their destruction.

"Such as device suggests a level of advancement they are not yet ready to possess." His lord had decreed in his vast chamber. The various courtiers and underlings listening with wide eyes and a forward lean that was common among those who gravitated towards the circle of their lord. "These people need to learn their place and accept the benevolent wisdom of their betters, least they harm themselves and others." Gesturing with one hand, he had pointed at Tormak. "Come." was all his lord said. A minor Goa'uld underling in the service of Ra, he'd still been humbled by the earlier … admonishment he received for failing to arrive on time with a small fleet from one of Ra's other worlds to fight Apophis' own ships; a failure which had almost cost them victory. He had been offered a chance to redeem himself. Quivering slightly, he slowly stepped up to a lower dais before taking a knee, his lords throne raised far above him with a pail light shining down from on high as Ra passed his his assignment.

"You failed in your earlier duties, Tormak. Such punishment usually carries only the harshest of penalties, but providence has presented an opportunity. You are to lead a small expedition to this world to identify and neutralize these pacifists. Take with you three dozen of my best warriors and put these people in their place. Should they resist." he fist slammed into the armrest of his throne with a dull echo. "Destroy them. so your god commands and so it shall be. Do this, and and all your previous failings shall be absolved. I grant this mercy for I am a just and generous god. Do not fail me again."

He still shook at he rose and walked out of the chamber, the small whispers of his fellows followed him, as he lord began to judicate and make new decisions behind him. A single glance back revealed two underlords kneeling before Ra asking for advice on a new opportunity for trade with Niirti. His lord was leaning forward with his eyes fully on the two as Tormak vanished into the hall to prepare.

In gleaming silver armor, embossed with a dozen ornate sigils and polished to be resplendent, complete with his Jackal Guard helmet, Tormak looked at the three dozen or so Horus Guard Jaffa accompanying him, and smiled. Handpicked from the warriors available nearby for this expedition, they were some of the best under Ra. They would be an imposing sight to the unsuspecting pacifists who doubtless had not heard of the Goa'uld. If need be, though he doubted it would arise, they could also slaughter the people on the other side quickly, to set an example for survivors.

"The plan." he thought. It would be relatively simple. He and the warriors would go to the other side and meet these "pacifists" and they would force their surrender with a sudden show of force if they didn't lay prostrate before the Lord Ra. In the event they resisted, the Horus guards were to act as a beachhead as Kre'tar would be notified to send reinforcements. They would merely have to survive long enough to send a message back, and Tormak would be absolved.

For the Jaffa, this meant an eternity in the wondrous afterlife of their gods.

For Tormak, it meant he had to live long enough to receive his boon.

"Jaffa, kree!" he called, and the formation moved forward, marching up the steps of the gate behind him

ES-4

As soon as the alarm had sounded, ES-4 had erupted into a flurry of activity. Men ran back and forth across the sands, diving into holes they had excavated days before and pulling simple wooden covers above their their heads. More still dove into the slit trenches strategically placed near the Stargate and further back in the camp. The vehicle crews slipped into their vehicles and the loud hum of engines began to purr over the camp. More still piled in behind sandbag cover scattered around the area. As the characteristic KAWOOSH subsided, Don's earpiece clicked continually as more and more of his men confirmed their positions.

Don held his breath, waiting to see what would come through. A moment later, several Eagle Warriors...no, Horus Guards, that's what Littlefield called them, marched through, their golden armour reflecting brightly off the sun as they marched lock step down the stone stairs of the Gate. They were followed by another half dozen or so of their fellows as they fanned out near the base of the stairs. As the first formation finished marching, what appeared to be a Jaffa with gleaming silver armor and a dog-like helmet stepped through. His head turning slowly as he scanned the area around him. Unlike the others though, he appeared to carry no staff weapon. Behind him, a number of Jaffa with Eagle helmets followed, stepping in the familiar mechanical pattern of the ones who came before. All told Don counted at least three dozen possible contacts. The small hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he gently touched the trigger guard of his Garand. If this was an escort, it was sure as hell intimidating.

As, the leader looked around more, he made a few gestures with his hand at his men. The formation adjusted slightly as the Guards followed his motions without a hesitation. As he finished the helmet retracted, folding up into the collar of the armor to reveal a man with dark skin, short-cropped dark hair with a well combed beard, complete with a pair of dark eyes. He glanced around. Much to everyone's surprise, his eyes flashed a bright yellow-white for a moment, and when he spoke, there was a deep bass echo to it.. The translators were just a moment behind the man's speech.

"I am Tormak, Underlord to the Supreme System Lord Ra. Who here speaks for your people?"

Hammond was about to speak up, but apparently Weber had been waiting for the first chance to insert himself into the situation. The short, balding, excitable man, who had apparently disregarded Hammond's suggestion to stay in the tent, came running in from the sidelines. Don groaned. Because of the potentially hostile situation, and combine with the possibility of the Goa'uld being able to infiltrate the minds of others, the higher ups decided to send a more...junior diplomat to ES-4. That wasn't to say that Frank Weber was incompetent or not knowledgeable, his brief time with the professor reassured the later that the man could hold his own in an intelligent conversation, it was just that he was rather...excited. His eyes had widened when he was told he'd be meeting aliens. The copious number of serials he brought with him suggested a rather boyish enthusiasm, which was only reinforced by the way he lit up when he'd arrived on ES-4. The men complained after a few hours when he hounded everyone for the smallest of minuta about the Goa'uld until Don had gently suggested that he use the dossier prepared by Dr. Littlefield and leave his men to their digging and planning. As the man practically jogged at the alien, Don began to wonder if maybe they should have sat him down a bit more.

"I do!" Webber called out as he stopped, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Mr. Tormak." He said extending a hand towards the armour clad individual "I am Ambassador Franklin Weber, and I have been authorized to handle any dealings between our people and the Goa'uld!"

Tormak looked at him dryly, his voice dripping with ill concealed contempt. "Well, Ambassador Franklin Weber, this is the decree from your new God, the Supreme System Lord Ra. Your people will immediately surrender to his dominion and swear loyalty to him. Let all your fellows know and prepare to swear the oath fealty."

Don braced himself. Those didn't sound like the words of a peaceful civilization.

"Weber!" he whispered into his earpiece.

"Ex...excuse me?" Webber asked, his hand falling to his side.

"Are you deaf or unintelligent? Your people will surrender yourselves to Ra's control immediately and acknowledge him as your God!"

Weber only got more confused. "You expect us to just surrender to you, to let you take over our lives and our world?"

"Yes!" Tormak said as he swiped his hand to the side in a rapid gesture. Don would have thought he'd slapped Weber if the man didn't stay standing, dumbfounded.

"Weber! Get the hell out of there!" Was all Don whispered, readying his gun. Things weren't looking good. True this could all be some kind of miscommunication, but for the money he wasn't going to take any chances.

The ambassador, to his credit, began to slowly step backwards, hands upright. The Goa'uld stared at him, his eyes piercing like daggers at the retreating form.

"Pre...Perhaps we could negotiate some kind of compromise of some sort. I've been empowered by our leaders to have a generous amount of leeway in regards to potential treaties an…" Weber began to speak before the armoured man gave an audible sigh.

His hand shot down his side into some kind of side container and the Goau'uld pulled out what Don recognized as one of the electrical weapons Kor'us had called a zat'nik'tel. He activated it. The first electrical arc shot across the dry sands, striking Weber in the chest. The short man gave a loud shout of pain as blue arcs bounced across his body. He was falling to his knees when the second bolt struck him, adding more dancing lights to his limp form. A third strike hit Weber dead center on his head, the blue lightning seemingly encased him for a moment before turning a bright red orange. A loud sizzling sound dominated the silent camp. His clothing shot away in black chunks and moments laters bits of Weber's flesh did so likewise. As the body hit the ground, it resembled more a blackened clump than a man as the force of the impact scattered the remains of Weber in the breeze, the faint odor of burnt flesh and cloth permeating the air.

"Fuck" Don thought as his finger grasped his trigger, "Open fire, open fire!" he called into his earpiece.

Aiming at one of the Guards who'd ready his staff, Don, leveled his rifle and squeezed the trigger.A loud snapping blast echoed across the camp as the recoil bit into his shoulder. He was rewarded with the sight of the Guard falling to the ground. Similar blasts and echos and more falling guards signaled that his comrades were meeting equally similar success.

The Jaffa, thankfully, dropped quickly, unable to survive the sheer volume of firepower being poured into them. The initial volley of Garand and BAR shots dropped most of them quickly, and one of the Willys Jeeps rolled out slightly and began to scythe through the survivors with it's machine gun.

Tormak, however, remained standing. Don aimed his rifle at the Goa'uld and squeezed off another shot. He watched though as a shimmering shroud of golden yellow seemed to momentarily encase the alien. The shroud appeared continually as more and more bullets struck the barrier. He scowled, and raised a hand toward the nearest soldier. A ripple shot out of the device on his hand, and slammed into the man, sending him flying backward several feet. The rest of the man's fellows ducked down behind their sandbags as another blast sent the heavy bags spiraling backwards, spilling their contents back onto the desert floor. Turning his gaze to a slit trench near the Stargate, he began shooting arcs of lightning at the men as they ducked down. The Jeep's gunner began to pour fire into the man, but the golden shield held under the barrage of fire. Raising his hand again, he fired yet another of his hand blasts. The Jeep front end seemingly crumpled in a loud snapping sound as its front rose up and fell backwards, sending the crew scrambling out, though the driver was hit by an arc of lightning and fell screaming in pain.

Tormak continued to ignore the hail of bullets now being focused solely on him. Looking backwards, he saw his entire contingent of guards had already fallen. Bright crimson ooze poured down the stone stairs and trickled onto the dry sand, the resplendent golden armour of the Horus Guard was now stained by numerous red pockmarks. Grunting, he proceeded to strike out at another one of the sandbag emplacements with a combination of hand and zat blasts.

Simmons glanced up from where he'd taken cover behind one of the , now a few feet in front and to the side of Simmons' position, hadn't noticed him, or if he did, he didn't care. That could be his downfall.

Simmons thought it wasn't likely, but maybe something a little more powerful could get through the shield. He pulled out a grenade, pulled the pin, hissed, "Fire in the hole!" through the earpiece, and threw it.

Don heard Simmons' call over the radios, and ducked, as he did so noticing something out of the corner of his eye. The small pineapple shaped piece of metal soared through the air right at the Goa'uld. Catching something at the corner of his eye, Tormak jerked his head to the side to avoid being struck by it. Passing mere inches from his head the grenade continued on its course and landed a couple feet away from the alien. A loud blast and a small cloud of dust enveloped the alien as the grenade exploded.

Don glanced up. Tormak was still standing, the shield still shimmering from the blast. The grenade hadn't stopped inside the boundary at all.

"Pathetic!" Tormak called. "You aren't worth the Jaffa you somehow killed!" As he taunted the defender, the Goa'uld began to take steps towards the gate, more more specifically the pedestal. More and more bullets continued to bounce off his shield.

"He's going to dial out!" Simmons radioed.

"I see it! Williams, blow the charges!"

"Yes sir, fire in the hole!"

Don and the rest of the defenders ducked down beneath their covers seconds before a massive thunderclap echoed through the camp as the satchel charges buried beneath the front of the Stargate were activated. A layer of sand on top of the sandbags near Don shook loose and dusted his back as the shockwave moved through the camp. A moment later the blast was a mere echo, and he hazard a glance over the top.

A large column of sand and dust had erupted from the blast sight and was joined by a thick black smoke that intertwined with the particles. A small red fire was still at the base though rapidly extinguishing.

Laying on his side was Tormak.

"Did we get him?" someone piped in over the earpiece.

"Did you see that blast? Holy Shit!"

"Stay off the line" Don ordered as he stepped over his sandbag, Garand still shouldered. As he moved several paces, a loud, pained grunt emerged from the Goa'uld. Tormak's body jerked and shifted for a couple seconds, before he rolled to his other side, his right arm shot down and braced itself against the ground. The zat'nik'tel lay abandoned to his side. Grunting and breathing heavily, sat up straight, a fire burned in his eyes as he did so. His left arm, with its strange kinetic hand device was affixed at an awkward angle. With a final exertion, he stood, the smoldering fires of the charges still alight near his feet, and the smoke and dust still partially obscured his body as he emerged from the explosive inferno only slightly worse for ware. Standing upright, he looked to his left and screamed in pain and shouted obscenities at the invisible defenders. Stomping backwards, he began to once more move towards the pedestal. The bullets began to fly and bounce harmlessly off his shield once more.

Don's mind raced. He had an idea. It was dirty, and underhanded, and likely to piss some people off, so he had to be careful. If he was wrong, he was dead. But at least there was a chance. "Cease fire! I repeat, cease fire!" he called, and then, when the gunfire died down, he called over the sandbags he was ducking behind, "Tormak! I'm going to come out now! We wish to surrender! I'd like to speak with you face to face when I do so! I'm disarming myself now!" With slow, exaggerated motions, Don dropped his rifle, sidearm, and grenades to his side, then pushed them away with his foot. "I'm going to stand up and approach now! All right?"

Tormak hesitated, then decided he didn't have much to lose. They could not penetrate his shield, and perhaps his show of force had cowed them. Had he not just emerged from an inferno of their mightiest weapons, only slightly injured. Perhaps they now understood their folly.

"You may approach." He said, eyes locked onto where the man was emerging from. Stepping forward several paces, he returned to where his fallen weapon lay and scooped it up with his functional arm. He held the zat'nik'tel at his side, halfway raised. The figure behind the barrier stood up, and walked forward slowly.

Don knew this was the most dangerous point. If any of his men decided to act on their own, it would turn into a slaughter. He couldn't tell anyone else what he'd seen, the apparent key to getting through the shield. They wouldn't know, and they'd be dead shortly after Tormak repeated what he'd done to Weber.

He closed to within a few feet of Tormak before the other told him to stop.

"So, you wish to surrender? A wise decision." Tormak said.

"There's a saying on my world. You've gotta do what you've gotta do." Don said, forcing his face to remain neutral. The two stared at each other for several seconds as the alien looked over him, though the narrowed eyes told Don there was likely few positive things to say in the alien's mind.

A moment later, he launched himself at Tormak, feeling a strange sensation as he passed through the shield. They toppled to the ground, Don landing on top of the Goa'uld. The alien screamed at his before Don brought a fist down on his face, bleeding its nose and sending a pain though his hands. Wasting no time and ignoring the pain no time he did it again, fists slamming into Tormak's head four or five more times. He stopped a few moments later, when Tormak lay limply on the ground.

Panting, he sat still for several seconds as he reached down to Tormak's neck with his fingers: "Alive, but unconscious." he concluded, then looked at the men. Standing, he looked at the others as they slowly began to emerge from their defensive covers.

"Let's go home, boys. We'll have them send a failsafe bomb package through to purge the area. Oh, and take the bodies and everything on them, too. Remember to check the pouches!" With that, Don looked back and removed the metal plate from the front of Tormak's armor, looking for the slit that exposed the pouch, but found none.

I've got no slit here, I think he's a host." He commented to Simmons, who was standing nearby.

Simmons shrugged. "Whatever he is, I'd like to put a bullet in his head. What kind of barbarian kills a diplomat?"

Don shook his head grimly. "The kind that doesn't have diplomacy."

Fort Roosevelt

Three hours later

Tormak had been heavily drugged, at Don's insistence, and then had his armor removed and his person searched. Now, they were bringing Tormak into the infirmary, where Kor'us, was being held. The stubborn Jaffa had almost fully recovered from his wounds, much to the armament of the base.

Don and Agent Marcus, accompanied by six lower-ranking soldiers, escorted the gurney carrying the unconscious Goa'uld into the room, and looked over at Kor'us. "Kor'us, we made a mistake." Samuel said. "We attempted contact with the Goa'uld Ra, peaceful contact, and in return they attacked us." As he approached Kor'us, his hand twitched. The next part was exactly why he'd brought the six soldiers with him. He unholstered his weapon, cocked the hammer, and placed it against the Jaffa's temple. The other soldiers formed a ring around them, blocking off the doctors and nurses present from interfering. "You're going to tell me who this man is, how important he is to Ra, and if he might know anything we'd like to hear him say. If you don't, I'll kill you like the little piece of shit you are."

A flicker of recognition had crossed Korus' face when he saw Tormak being brought in. Kor'us glanced at Samuel. "You believe threatening my life will work. You are wrong. And you are fools. I warned you about how to go about reaching out to my Lord. Your refusal to listen has doubtless cost you lives."

"Don." Samuel said. Don, having talked with Samuel earlier about the plan, looked over. "Clearly, he's worthless to us, then. We don't have the resources to deal with all these enemies. Kill the Goa'uld. Have his head and the worm sent back to ES-2. Let's send these bastards a clear message."

Kor'us visibly stiffened at the words, and a panicked "NO!" erupted from his lips. He immediately deflated, realizing that he'd been tricked into revealing that Tormak was of some importance.

"That's what I thought." Samuel said with a fierce grin, his eyes widened slightly. Pulling this pistol back, he holstered it as he continued "Now, any further refusals to answer my questions will be met with Don putting a bullet into Tormak's head, and then me putting one in yours. After all, we still have your other friend, and we can make him talk. You are expendable, Kor'us. Until you prove otherwise, I will have no problem disposing of you."

Kor'us sighed. He had to protect the Goa'uld underling, and as far as he knew, he had no reason to doubt that Agent Marcus wouldn't carry out his threat.

"You already know his name. Tormak. He's a minor underling of Lord Ra, in charge of administering a number of lesser worlds in Ra's territory when our Lord is not around to do so himself." He said. He realized as he did so that this was protecting Tormak as well. If they understood Tormak to be of importance, they would be reluctant to kill him. "He is high enough in the ranks that Ra often speaks to him personally. It is doubtful you can convince him to be cooperative. His capture means he has failed in whatever mission he was tasked with. He has nothing to gain by speaking to you, and nothing left to lose. However, it is possible that he can be used to secure amnesty from Ra for your transgressions. Show him mercy and compassion, and my god will, perhaps look kindly upon you for your treatment of one of his servants."

"Hmmm, interesting, we need to arrange a few things. We'll talk later, Kor'us Samuel finished as the group left the room. Don began to leave with his men when Doctor Sanderson wheeled around the corner, his nostrils flared as he glared through his glasses, a piercing look that zeroed in on Sam.

"Agent Marcus, what the hell do you think you're playing at?!" Was all Don heard as he quickly left the infirmary. Passing through the halls, he found his way back to the control room. Looking down through one of the viewing openings, he saw several figures in gas masks in the gate room, hurling large canisters through the gate. A pair of forklifts were infront of th gate as well, four large metal tubes were strapped together and resting on a large metal pallet shared between the two. In the booth, Simmons was watching everything unfold.

"Hey Don" he greeted, arms crossed as he stared down.

"Hey! So we already sent the incendiaries through then?"

"Yep, the mortar crews sent them through a few minutes ago, so they should still be burning. LAst of the gas is going through now as well. It'll take about five minutes for them to empty then we send the big one through."

"I already know that Simmons." Don said, a small smile playing his face, though his mind was still at the infirmary, processing what had just happened.

"I know, but its still kind of cool to think about. Saturated incendiary bombardment, mustard gas canisters, and four blockbusters strapped together. We're not taking any chances are we?"

"Nope, we want to make sure that site is as good and sanitized as possible."

"Still aren't the first two kind of redundant because of the last one. I mean they're called blockbusters for a reason."

"We didn't want to take any chances with something surviving the last one, hence the fire and gas. Besides, this is just temporary, scuttlebutt says we're getting something a hell of a lot more powerful once production can ramp up a bit more."

"Do you mean…?" Simmons began to ask

"Exactly!" Don finished as the crews below stepped back. Several minutes passed before the forklifts began to slowly wheel their way up the ramp, straining beneath their heavy load. Finally the large metal pallet entered the event horizon and vanished beyond the gate. As the forklifts drew back, Don saw one of the technicians in the booth press down on a plunger while a second quickly cut power to the gate.


	25. Things change

Fort Roosevelt

The Next Day

Samuel and Don sat at a table in one of Fort Roosevelt's meeting rooms. Across from them, Doctor Sanderson glowered at them both. All three looked at the uniformed man who was busy, almost absentmindedly, chewing the stub of a cigar as he thumbed through several manilla envelopes and folders. The meeting was, as always, quiet while the men waited for him to speak.

They'd all known that it was going to happen eventually. Fort Roosevelt was too important and was in likelihood going to grow even more so in the next several years. They couldn't keep leading it in the ad-hoc fashion they'd be doing, especially if they were going to play host to the other nations who signed on with the treaty.

Which is how Colonel Thomas Odell came to Fort Roosevelt. Don recalled that he'd been on a short list of commanders being vetted for the post. Ordinarily, it'd just be a matter of reliability, but as he recalled, Marshall told the president that they were looking for a man who could match a very specific set of qualities. They needed someone who had a sharp eye and a quick mind, someone who'd be willing to take a chance, keep an open mind, innovate, experiment, but be willing to stay humble. What that last part meant, Don had no clue, it was way above his pay grade and vague enough to leave him with plenty of questions.

Odell and several senior staff had come through several hours earlier and were given a tour. It'd been as much of a surprise to Don as it was to everyone else. Even Sam had no clue he was coming, or that they'd even picked a new commander. Scuttlebutt said the colonel had wanted to surprise the team with the inspection and to get a better idea of what his command would realistically look like on a day to day basis. He'd barely been there an hour when they'd wheeled to the medical wing. Once he'd identified himself, Doctor Sanderson had made a beeline for the colonel and, protocol be damned, reported directly to him what had happened in the medical wing the day before with Don, Sam and Tormak.

"Colonel Odell, I have to, again, complain about the actions Lieutenant Hammond and Agent Marcus took with my patients!" Sanderson said, shaking his head at the pair. "They blatantly threatened their lives, pulled guns on them both! I don't know what kind of game they think they're playing with, but I will not stand for this!" he sighed "As cliche as it may sound, I'm a doctor and I take the oath I made seriously, I won't stand for anyone, human or alien, being tortured physically or mentally." he raised his voice with the last two words as he glowered once more at Sam "in my medical wing."

"No need to keep rehashing that, Doctor." Odell replied, as he tapped the ash from his cigar into a small ashtray, his eyes never moving from the paper in front of him. Rubbing a hand over his short brown hair, he furrowed his brow, a small scar scrunched up as he screwed his face, looking at the envelope in front of him "I've been brought up to speed on what they did, and you've made your opinion abundantly clear."

"Then, I would like to, respectfully, ask that you please do something about them!" Sanderson asked in a strained voice, small tendrils of anger sneaking out from behind his teeth as he hand remained clasped on the table, his mouth vanishing as his lips pursed behind his small grey beard.

Don sighed. Sanderson wasn't giving up on trying to have them punished for what they'd done. If he had his way, Don had no doubt that he and Samuel would both be packing their bags and heading to Earth for a formal court-martial.

"Colonel, sir." Don said as he looked from Sanderson to Odell. "As we've already explained, based on our analysis of the situation, we had no choice but to resort to the measures we took to gain intelligence from Kor'us regarding the Goa'uld Tormak. Tormak himself murdered an ambassador in cold blood during an attempt at peaceful contact. He then proceeded to assault our entire team, and managed to kill several of my men before we stopped him. You didn't see the way he blew Weber up! The guy was trying to do his job, and Tormak murdered him for no reason!"

"As I said, we've already been over most of this, Lieutenant." Odell replied, his eyes narrowing as he let the folder drop to the table. "Now, you say that in effect, we are at war with the Goa'uld. I agree with that, especially in the wake of this attack." he said opening a palm, extending it slightly towards the men "However, some would argue that because of this, Tormak, Kor'us, and the other Jaffa in custody are entitled to the rights and privileges afforded to prisoners of war. We're in uncharted territory here. No treaty or list of terms covers protocol when dealing with interspecies warfare, as I'm sure you're aware."

"I say we treat them the like Goa'uld would treat any of our men." Don growled, his voice lowered as he looked down at the table, the faces of his men, Donowitz, Powell, Weber and other others played before him. "Like scum. Like the worthless pieces of trash they are."

"Agreed" Sam said with a nod "These things" he hissed "don't give two shits about humans, we're nothing but slaves to them, chattel to be used as they see fit. No better than the goddamn Nazis or Japs! Hell Tormak and Kor'us have practically bragged about the people they've killed on other worlds!

A fist slammed on the table "They're still people! The Goa'uld hosts are completely human, controlled against their will by the parasite!"

Sam shot back. "We don't know that! We don't know that most hosts aren't willingly cooperating with them! We may have seen Goa'uld symbiotes take hosts unwillingly, but both situations involved young parasites in life-or-death situations! For all we know, the hosts are aiding and abetting the Goa'uld of their own free will!"

Sanderson roared as he looked at the two. "For god's sake, remember what happened with Powell?! He sure as hell didn't want to shoot those men, but he had no choice. Do you know if Tormak took his host or asked him? No! All you did was put a goddamn gun to his head while he was recovering in the hospital! And as for Kor'us, you've heard him, about him and his people. They've been tricked into believing the Goa'uld are gods!"

"Oh, so they're just innocent stooges who got duped into doing their masters dirty work, wiping out people and murdering diplomats?" Sam sneered. "Oh, nein, I vas just following orders!" he mocked in a fake accent before a loud cough silenced the room.

"Gentlemen stand down!" Odell ordered as he snuffed out the cigar. "I won't have three of my senior personnel arguing with each other like they're in a pissing contest on the playground. Agent Marcus, you show some goddam maturity, or so help me god I'll send you on a one way ticket back to Earth to shovel papers!"

Reaching into a breast pocket, he pulled out a metal case and opened it. Grabbing another brown roll, he quickly snapped it shut and lit the cigar with a lighter, the smoke puff wafted over the room for a moment before he continued.

"Now, Doctor Sanderson, these aliens have demonstrated hostility towards Earth, I think that's beyond dispute at this point. They also happen to have a massive technological advantage over us. We don't know their strengths, resources, weaknesses, or how their fancy toys work. As much as I'd like to keep our fight against them clean, as much as I'd love for us to keep the moral high ground, that is not a reality we currently face. We probably are going to have to do a lot of things that we won't be proud of if we want to ensure the survival of our world."

Sanderson began to open his mouth, but the cclonel turned to Don and Sam.

"That being said…" he said loudly, emphasizing those words before taking a long breath. His voice low and deliberate as he narrowed his gaze "I will not tolerate the brutalization, torture, torment, harassment, or any kind of abuse towards our prisoners while they remain in the care of our medical wing. If you have to do this kind of shit, you will do so when the subject is not under the charge of the people sworn to take care of all life." As Sam began to open his mouth the colonel finished, "And yes I know there might be extenuating cases where you might have to do that kind of crap in the medical wing, short term emergencies where lives could hang in the balance of seconds. But if you have to do that kind of thing to a patient, you will get the doctor's permission to be there and you will keep them abreast of what you are doing."

"Sir with respect, I…"

"Will be complying with these orders, since they come down from the top." Odell finished as he slid a folder to Sam. "Courtesy of Director Sheridan." he said as he let the agent scan the contents.

"..All personnel are to ultimately answer to and defer to the commander of the base they are assigned to?!" Sam read aloud the final order of his new boss.

"That's right, Sheridan and I were sworn in a few days ago, so yes agent, you will be complying with my order, unless you'd like to take it up with him." chomping on the cigar, he looked at the three "Heliopolis will be getting its commander in the next few days and Sheridan will be assigning several more agents offworld and Earthside to handle matters. In the next month or so we should be getting our international teams and our liaisons with the other nations. We need to be on our game if we're going to make this work."

Stacking the folders, he look at the trio.

"Hammond, Marcus, this will be your one warning; unless it's either authorized by me personally or if it's one of the emergency situations I laid out, you are not to lay one finger on the prisoners in the medical wing, now and whenever we might get more. Sanderson," he said turning to the doctor, "You're going to drop this matter, if these two or anyone else pulls something like this and it's not one of the situations I just described, report it and I or someone else will handle it."

The trio of men nodded in silent agreement as the colonel dismissed the group. As the door closed behind them, he sighed as he let out a puff of smoke. Leaning back in the chair, he watched as the smoke was sucked into the air vent above and piped through the ceiling.

"Let's finish getting this thing off the ground at least." he muttered to himself as he sat forward and slammed open another folder. Scanning the contents, he clicked a ballpoint pen and prepared to pen several more orders and requests.

Odell knew that the next few weeks we're going to be incredibly busy.

"Mr. President, the assault on ES-4 by the "Horus Guard" Jaffa, as Kor'us calls them, in the face of an overt attempt at peaceful contact, has led us to conclude with near-total certainty that the Goa'uld, or at least those few factions we have encountered of theirs, are not interested in peaceful coexistence, and likely are active conquerors." the report on Truman's deck read. Listening in on an earpiece, the president and the leaders of the nascent Trans-Oceanic Treaty Organization silently took in the information Colonel Odell read for them.

"Kor'us has corroborated our assumption in that regard and so far, our interrogations of the Goa'uld Tormak have been similar as well."

"Colonel I understand you've been coordinating with some of our other officers and are proposing we modify our original plan to remain behind our gate?" Prime Minister Fraser piped in over the ear piece. "Now I understand the crux of it, but I'd like to hear from you exactly what you are proposing and why." he finished.

The shuffling of papers could be heard over the ear pieces as the colonel grabbed the original plans: "As a result of the Goa'uld's actions and of our interrogations, we feel the only course of action is to prepare to fight them, to continue to learn about them and try to sow confusion and discord." Truman heard several mutters in his ear as the other leaders consulted with their top brass and other officials who were deemed necessary to be in the know. "We have dire need to acquire information about our enemy, but from the limited information we got from our prisoners, our enemy operate on some kind of neo-feudal system of governance. Small vassals pay fealty to higher ranked individuals who in turn owe their fealty to even higher ranked Goa'uld. At the top is, and again, according to the prisoners, the Supreme Lord Ra, acting as some kind of imperial leader of the entire hierarchy. Each lord is believed to have an unknown number of soldiers and other advanced war materiel at their disposal, to say nothing of the resources of whatever world or worlds they control."

The faint murmuring of the other officials could be heard. The report was still fresh and many had still only just had a cursory glance at it, with physical copies being transported in highly secured courier aircraft and ships. The earpieces allowed for more instantaneous communication.

"Our saving grace is, again, that fractured nature. It would appear that the so called System Lords frequently fight in a number of minor to moderate skirmishes and conflicts against each others for prestige, resources and other esoteric reasons. So long as they don't endanger the long term stability of the empire as a whole with their conflicts, the lords are free to do as they please. Apparently even some of the minor lords have small skirmishes with Ra."

"That's all well and good, but what is the overall objective of this information?" Prime Minister Smuts asked.

"We believe that we could exploit this small scale conflict to our advantage." Odell commented "Through use of a series of false-flag operations, using captured Jaffa armor and modified Jaffa weapons to pose as servants of another Goa'uld, we're hoping we can sow some discord inside the ranks of some of the worlds of our enemy. This will hopefully keep them from looking for a newcomer to the playing field while they fight amongst each other. Now obviously we won't rely on trying to make a superior enemy dance around to our own beat, but we believe that with careful use of these techniques, we can distract some of the lords who might pose a threat to any of our operations." The colonel cleared his throat of smoke as the group absorbed his plan before continuing.

"While these are going on, we suggest searching for allies, continuing exploration efforts, albeit scaled back to minimize risk to Earth. No more than one or two platoons to a world, wearing a standard blank uniform the SGI has been using for day to day operations. We've also considered, once the additional forces from the Commonwealth nations arrive, breaking up existing units, giving one or two of them as liaisons to the new units, with the liaisons and the unit COs being the only ones with the gate addresses back to Earth and Fort Roosevelt, minimizing the number of people per team who know those particularly sensitive pieces of information. We're continuing to scout for additional worlds that can serve as waypoints, avoiding any direct connections back to either location from unsecured worlds in the event they come under attack. Given that we can now consider ES-4 compromised, this is crucial."

"Can we guarantee that our location will not be compromised? As we discussed at the initial conference, our main concern is the safety and security of Earth. That must be a priority! If a piece of intelligence falls into the hands of our enemies that can lead them to our home, it would be disastrous. Are we positive we want to do this gentleman? One of the leaders asked over the din of muttering.

"As I see it, we have two options: we can wait for them to come here and flatten us, or we can get off our asses and do something about it. Is it risky? Yes, of course. However, the potential benefits outweigh the risks. As long as we are careful, and as long as certain operational protocols that have arisen in the SGI of late are followed, the risk is minimal."

"What kind of 'certain operational protocols?'"

"The preventing of capture of SGI personnel by the Goa'uld through any means necessary, up to and including execution."

Truman could hear what sounded like a fist hitting a desk, an exasperated sigh came from the line, he recognized Smut's voice. "You can't expect men to be willing to kill their friends, their compatriots, to prevent their capture, can you? For god's sake, I brought this up the last time someone talked about our men killing each other to preserve security."

"We've had two cases so far, in rapid succession, where a member of the SGI was taken over by one of these parasites. Let me read to you an observation from Lieutenant Hammond's debriefing in the wake of the attack on ES-2. 'As he lay dying, Powell seemed filled with anguish over what the creature had done with his body, insisting with his dying breath that it wasn't him. I wouldn't wish that fate on my worst enemy, being taken against their will and used for whatever foul purposes the snake desires.' Gentlemen, death is a mercy compared to the prospect of capture and infestation by the Goa'uld. Both infestation incidents culminated in what can only be described as a mercy kill of the host, both carried out unhesitatingly when it became apparent that it was the only way to prevent higher casualties."

"Yes yes, that's all well and good, I think everyone, including our men, understands that being taken by these creatures is a fate worse than death and like you said we've dealt with infestations before, but, Mr. President, I'm not talking about dealing with an infested soldier, that solution is fairly clear. What I'm talking about is, can our soldiers kill their fellows when they're not infested?"

"Part of being in the military is knowing you're going to lose friends, people you've served with and fought beside, that sometimes, you're going to have to send those men to their deaths. In this case, we may have to accept that some of us will have to be the instrument of that death. The entire planet, the families and loved ones of everyone in the SGI, depends on our location and presence being kept secret. Let me ask you a question: a friend of yours is about to give up information that will kill your family, all your loved ones, or see them enslaved and beaten. You have a gun, and with that gun, you can stop this. Are you going to stand by and let your friend kill everyone else that you care about? Against their will or not, they are still going to be used to doom your entire world, everyone on it. Do you stop them, or do you let it happen?"

Smuts was silent for a moment, the chatter over the ear pieces was gone as the leaders waited for his response. Finally a small sigh came over the feed. "I concede that the stakes will be far higher, and yes that is a very valid reason, but I do want it to be on the record that depending on that will be difficult, it does present a possible area of failure in security. If we're going to do this, then we'll need more training for these soldiers, training to have them overcome their mental prohibitions about killing their fellows if they need to."

"Of course, better training will be needed, we've got psychologists and other trainers working on a new regiment right now actually to come up with a way of dealing with the unknown. To be in the SGI, we're going to need a new breed of soldier, a special breed, one that's smart, flexible, and capable of appreciating the importance of their task, and the sensitivity of the potential danger they could pose if they are compromised."

Truman nodded in silent agreement, and across the feed, he could hear similar murmurs of agreement as well. With Fraser and Smuts allayed, the others' silent concerns seemed to be addressed, at least for the moment. Truman didn't doubt though that this wouldn't be the last time they'd all have this kind of discussion. The unknown before them was presenting a unique mosaic of dread and fascination.

Clearing his throat, he spoke "Well gentlemen, if we're all in agreement, let's move on now…"

Prague, Czechoslovak Republic, three days later.

Pavel groaned as he threw himself down on the couch, he hated the walk back and forth to the embassy. Six blocks on broken cobblestone played hell with his knee and the cane only offered small relief.

"Ah another productive day gone by!" Boris grinned as he locked the door behind them, his attitude only elicited another groan from Pavel as his face remained buried in the pillow. "Ah, come now comrade, it's not so bad, we've only been here for a week or so. Chin up!"

"Boris, we just sit on our asses all day." Pavel's muffled voice came through his pillow, his head unmoving,

"We do that already in Moscow!" Boris quipped as the sound to clinking glass came from the small kitchen, or at least from what Pavel assumed was the kitchen, the comforting softness of the pillow didn't offer much clear sight."

"Yeah, but at least we're sitting on our asses and deciphering important information! At least we have the quantity there. Right now we're looking at what? One or two reports from the American embassy? And then nothing! I've been re-reading old copies of Pravda they have scattered around the place just to avoid going nuts!"

"See, that's why I always bring books my friend!" Boris's chipper voice carried over the room. Pavel just groaned again as he closed his eye and tried to sleep. He just wanted to be out of Prague as quickly as he could. After they had dropped off the locked briefcase a week or so ago, they'd been doing small bits of busy work, but were clearly out of place in the Embassy. Why they were supposed to remain there still eluded him.

He started to drift off into the peaceful oblivion of sleep when suddenly he felt a rough hand shaking him awake. Sucking in his breath, he looked up, eyes slightly glazed over as Boris was crouching next to him, a TT-30 pistol drawn but pointed towards the floor.

"What the hell!?" he snarled.

"Pavel...There's a huge mob outside!" he whispered harshly, looking up at the window.


	26. Chapter 23: Revolution

Chapter 23

Prague-Republic of Czechoslovakia

November 27th: 1947

"What the hell!?" Pavel asked as he tried to look over Boris towards the window. As he groggily blinked his eyes, he could hear the sound of voices outside, a mixture of chants and yells echoing over the streets.

Boris, crouching beside him, continued to glance up, straining to peak out the window. "They started marching down the street a few minutes ago!" His voice a harsh whisper.

Pointing to a small radio on an shabby end table in the corner of the living room, Pavel ordered, "Turn that on, maybe there'll be some news!"

With his knees still bent, Boris slowly walked over to the radio, keeping his head low. Tentatively, he reached up and turned a knob. A small crackle of static washed over the room as he tuned the knobs to the various stations. A smattering of violins, drums, whistles and other sounds came over as the stations cycled, until a single voice started frantically chattering out over the living room from the box.

"What's he saying?" Pavel asked.

"I don't know! I don't speak Czech! I thought you did Pavel!"

"What? No! I speak English and German! I thought you knew Czech!"

"Well that's just fucking great! I only know English, Lithuanian and some Latvian!"

"Are you...Son of a bitch! Whose goddamn bright idea was it to send us here again?!"

"I dunno, lets deal with the whole mob thing before we start bitching about our assignment from fucking on high again." Boris sighed as he rested his face in his open palm. His pistol still trained on the floor. In the distance outside, several sirens blared across the streets.

"Well, okay, let's look at our options. We've both got our pistols, we're on the fifth floor and there's some heavy furniture. I say we just barricade the door, wait for this to blow over and then high tail it to the embassy at night!"

"That sounds like a plan, grab your gun, I'll start moving stuff!"

Crouching as best he could, propping himself up with his cane, Pavel waddled over to his room, in the background, he could hear the sound of a bookshelf scraping against the ground. Flinging open his wardrobe, he found a small metal box, opening it, it pulled out the small black pistol. It was an older gun, but it'd served him well during the war, it still had a small dent on the magazine from when he dropped it during a skirmish in Stalingrad. Loading it, he moved back to the living room, where he saw a panting Boris leaning against a table that'd been propped against another table, which in turn was bracing a bookshelf which had been firmly wedged against the door.

"Wow! that was fast!" he said marveling at Boris's handiwork.

"Thanks...I've had some practice." he panted, a small bead of sweat forming on his forehead. As Boris recovered the phone in the apartment started to ring. Springing up, Boris ran over and grabbed it as the third tone echoed through the apartment.

"Hello!" he said, falling standing silent for a few moments, his face slowly contorting. "What?" he asked "Are you serious?...Yes I've seen the….Yes...Yeah, fine….yes we'll be there soon." Hanging up the phone, he looked down at the floor and sighed. "That was the embassy, they're recalling all nearby personnel to the location for "our protection", so we're needed there as soon as possible." he finished, rolling his eyes.

"Are they serious?! Have they seen what's outside! The damn place is eleven blocks away, the walk is a pain in the ass already without an angry mob!"

"Well, better start moving that stuff then." Pavel ordered, pointing his cane at the barricaded door. Lining his shoulder against the bookcase, and pushing against the ground with his good leg, he grunted and strained as he shoved the bookcase towards its side. After it scraped against the ground for a couple seconds, he felt the closer portion lift off the ground, before the rest of the thing toppled over, hobbing one one foot back, he dodged the legs of the shelf as it crashed.

Boris quickly dragged the tables to the side, the table's legs producing a sound akin to nails on chalkboard as it moved. Pavel wondered what their neighbors down below thought of the cacophony.

"Okay! Lets go!"

…

Fort Roosevelt

Don, Samuel, and several others were standing in Fort Roosevelt's Gate Room, awaiting the arrival of the first of the multinational forces. Australia had managed to scrounge something up first, a couple of platoons under the command of a Lieutenant Slade Wilson that had been active in North Africa. A pair of squads from New Zealand would be joining them as well, with a platoon from the islands coming towards the end of the month.

It had been decided that, mainly to impress the new arrivals, a sort of "Grand Tour of the SGI" had been planned. First, the tour of Area 52, ending in the Gate Room, then a trip through the gate to Heliopolis before transiting to Fort Roosevelt. While the actual combinations for the address would be concealed for the moment, to be revealed later to key squad commanders and personnel, it had been agreed that familiarizing the incoming personnel with the general goings on of the current SGI would be prudent, given that deployments would likely rotate between the various locations.

Sure enough, right on schedule, General Richard Lawson, the new CO of Area 52 and the program as a whole, came through, followed by a number of new personnel, foremost among them Wilson and a pair of sergeants followed closely behind by the rest of the new transfers. A quick shutdown later, and the gate was reopened from Area 52 to allow the final train of vehicles to come in, given the difficulties . Several of the men were riding in the familiar squat, treaded Universal Carriers that the Commonwealth was fond of. Most of the men were walking through, the Carriers were loaded down with boxes and other supplies which peeked out from behind their small metal curtain walls, though considering the carriers were only five feet tall, that wasn't saying much.

"General Lawson! Good to have you here!" came a voice from behind the group, turning, they saw Colonel Odell walking forward, cigar surprisingly absent as he made his way to the group.

Lawson smiled "Odell, good to see you too!" his voice was neutral in accent, Don pegged him as being from somewhere in the Midwest most likely. "How are things holding up here?"

"Pretty good, truth be told we're just getting the set up finished, last minute changes and that."

"If I may?" Slade gently interjected. "We've got everyone through, should I send for the special delivery?"

"Oh yes, I think our friends here will want to see these!" Lawson grinned as he took several steps forward. "You said you have that prefab warehouse done?"

"We do, wha...?" Odell started to ask before Wilson muttered into his radio, Lawson held up a finger and gestured to the gate.

Several moments passed as the Stargate gently hummed, the smooth blue surface shimmering as the embarkation room fell silent. Then another Universal Carrier rolled through the gate with a faint woosh, a cable pulling something behind it. As it rolled down the ramp, a prop slowly emerged from the gate, followed by the matte black fuselage of a plane. As more of it emerged, the men saw that its wings were collapsed and folded to its side, like how a bird would store its own. As the tail of the plane slid out of the gate, another carrier emerged, towing a similar cable.

"Is that a Hellcat?" Odell asked, looking at the plane.

Wilson smiled "On loan from some of our friends in the Royal Navy. They're a variant model, originally designed for night fighting. They each have their own radar and ditched a couple machine guns for some proper cannons, though they can still carry a few light bombs if need be."

"That's, err … nice." Odell offered "But we don't know what kind of additional aircraft the aliens might have, aside from those open-cockpit deals, and it's not like we can just run the planes through the gate to provide emergency air support. We were actually hoping to get some more scout planes to finish mapping the area around the base."

"It was my idea, actually." Lawson gestured. "With our new scouting plans, since we're going to be devoting a significant quantity of time to investigating each world we come across, we had a discussion back home and realized having some kind of air support we can take through a gate would be helpful. Way we figured, it might not just be Goa'uld out there. Plan is for us to basically establish a small field air base and move the planes out to our scouting locations for when we do long term ops."

Odell frowned, not at the plan, it made sense, but that he hadn't been included. Still he swallowed his pride and looked at the planes. "We'll have to make sure we keep enough thermite to blow them if we need to evacuate quickly, chances are if we have to run from a world, we won't be able to take them back home with us."

"Yeah, that's going to be a downside, we brought some extra of that if we need to, so at least we've got that covered. And you'll be happy to know we're getting some better scout planes up here too in just a bit. I know you've been pushing hard to get the rest of this planet scouted out, and honestly, having some planes with range and endurance will be good for other scout ops off world. You also be happy to know..."

The two commanders continued to talk and plan as the men in the embarkation room moved to the massive rolling doors built into the side. Grunting, they pushed the door open, a small motor assisting them as it's whine filled the room. The carrier towing the plane maneuvered itself according to move its charge to the building over.

The process repeated several more times until the twelfth plane rolled down the ramp. This time it was followed by a large bulldozer, its heavy plow barely clearing the aperture of the gate. It too followed the fighters towards the rapidly filling hangar building. A few tankers filled with highly processed aviation fuel rounded out the convoy before the gate was turned off with a small whooshing sound, leaving the room filled with buzzing of voices. General Lawson and a couple other personnel sood nearby as the gate was dialed from the control room.

"Gentlemen! I believe we have a briefing in just a bit about one of our new scouting ventures. Meet in the conference room in an hour. Lieutenant Wilson, you'll be there, we'd like for you and your boys to be ready as soon as possible."

"You've got it sir!" Wilson responded with a crisp nod as he and the rest of the Australian detachment made their way out of the room.

"Don, Sam, why don't you help our guests get to their new facilities, and I'll see you at the briefing."

"Will do, sir." Samuel smiled as he looked at the new faces. "This way men!" The small party briskly exited the embarkation facility and found themselves walking along the rough dirt path of the base. Turing left, they walked around the building to a large, purpose built building. Its outside coated in corrugated metal and dull wooden panels, it looked like everything else in the army, ready made and cheap to build.

"This is one of three barracks facilities we have here on location." Don said pointing to it. "You'll find almost everything you need in there, bunks, lockers, and some latrines. We've also hooked up some field showers to the outside so you'll be able to get clean there. Mess is right over there!" he pointed to a smaller building directly behind the embarkation facility"

Prague

Several sirens wailed in the background as Pavel and Boris made their way down the street, pistols concealed behind their heavy jackets. So far they hadn't encountered any of the mobs yet, and Pavel hoped it'd stay that way.

"How many more blocks again?" he asked Boris as they reached another intersection

"About eight more, I think." he said, pointing to a street nearby, hand bobbing up and down as though he was counting "Yeah, eight, I'm pretty sure."

Pavel sighed, they'd been moving for about half an hour now, dodging and weaving their way through alleyways mostly and sticking to the streets only if they appeared absent of any mobs. Still, progress had been minimal. Pavel's leg didn't help much either.

"Stupid thing." he mumbled as he smacked his cane's bottom against his foot.

"What was that, comrade?" Boris asked

"Nothing" Pavel sighed, the day was almost over, the sun was nearing the horizon and they still had so far to go. "Look Boris, I'm not going to be going much faster than I already am, we need to get to the embassy to report. Why don't you go ahead, and I'll … I'll try and catch up." he finished as he looked down and glared at his cane.

"Stupid thing." he thought again.

"Pavel … no." Boris said in a gentle tone, reaching over he put a hand on his shoulder "We have no clue what the hell is going on, I'm not leaving you out here by yourself."

"Boris, think! It's taken us almost an hour to get where we are. If we keep moving at the rate we are, it'll be dark before we reach the embassy. With those mobs out, who knows what they'll do when the lights are out. If you get there, at least you can find out more about what's going on, maybe this whole thing is nothing to worry about. If it is, though, maybe you can see about them sending guards to collect any assets that haven't made it there."

Boris sighed and looked over at the setting sun. Closing his eyes for a moment he faced downward. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! Now go!"

"Stay safe, you ugly bastard." he smiled as he wheeled around and started to run down the street. Pavel watched enviously as Boris leapt over a curb and vanished around the corner in a streak, leaving him alone on the street. Grunting Pavel began to follow, his cane rapping softly against the sidewalk as he moved. By the time he reached the corner where Boris had turned, his associate had long since vanished down the twisting streets.

Soldiering on ahead he made the way down the turns as fast as he could, all the while looking around to see if he could see anyone. apart from a handful of people milling around the streets or moving as fast as they could he saw no one. After about half an hour of walking he hoped he was getting closer. Looking up at the sky, he watched as the sun was dipping far below the horizon, the dark would soon be over him and the city. In the distance he thought the sound of police alarms were blaring, though none sounded too close.

That's when the melody hit him. It was slow at first, like a small echo, it sounded like a group...chanting? Singing maybe? Shaking his head he continued forward until he realized that as he did so, the note was getting louder, more and more voices joining in. Cautious, he ducked into an alley and moved forward from there, the sound, now definitely singing, getting louder and louder. He could almost make out a melody to it.

"Wait...Is that?" he thought half heartedly as he got closer and closer to the source. Now the sound of hundreds were in the mix. The simple meter of their tune carried over and while Pavel didn't speak Czech, he recognized that tune anywhere. He hummed a familiar tune and though

"Internatsionalom, vospryanet rod lyudskoy!" and was surprised to see his little tune line up with the voices he heard..

"That's the Internationale!" he happily thought as he hurried through the alley, turing one last corner, he saw what'd he'd initially been dreading to see. A sea of people filled his view, men, women and children all marching in slow order down the street. Waving red banners and flags, some chanted, some continued to sing, but they all marched with a single purpose. Looking around, he saw that many of the flags were embossed with symbols he recognized from local unions. Their voices he couldn't recognize, but the symbols were comfortably familiar.

Smiling, he stepped off the curb and joined the march, they were walking down the street that would go past the embassy anyways, so he saw nothing wrong with a little solidarity among the fellows. They continued to sing the Internationale for another couple minutes before switching over to some local song he knew nothing about, but hummed along to anyways.

Pavel lost track of time as they crowd slowly made their way down the street.

Fort Roosevelt

Hammond, Simmons, and Wilson were sitting in the conference room, waiting for Odell to begin the briefing.

"We've done the preliminary investigation of ES-6 already. It appears the gate is located in a forest in the foothills of a mountain range, with a stream nearby. Our gate diver found several piles of rocks in the stream, and brought this back." Odell produced a smooth lump of metal. "It's proven tricky to cut … almost as tricky as the cores of the Heliopolis pillars. We believe it to be an unworked version there of, or at least a primary component in the material's manufacture. A primary goal of this expedition is to obtain more of it for study. No wildlife was spotted, so you should also be on the lookout for any. And, as we're going to be doing from now on, look for any signs of civilization and report back."


	27. Chapter 24: Planet Of The Bears

Chapter 24

The teams, one led by Don, the other by Slade, walked through the gate, and it was a fairly routine trip, with the gate secured quickly, and a perimeter out to two hundred meters cleared. One area of interest was a stream running out of the forest near the gate. The gate diver they'd sent through had reported that there appeared to be some kind of metal deposits in the stream. He'd brought a specimen back, a fist-sized lump of the metal, and it had quickly become apparent, when they tried to cut a sample off, that this was at least very similar to the metal at the core of each pillar on Heliopolis, if not the same material. They were going to collect more of it, as well as attempt to ascertain if there were other extant veins of the material.

It turned out that, after splitting up into two groups, one led by Don and Wilson, the others led by Simmons and Wilson's second in command, a Sergeant Gabriel Irwin, all they had to do was follow the stream, which had a trail of the material leading through the forested area up a mountainside. Hammond left two squads, one American, one ANZAC, at the gate while leading the other squads personally with Wilson to follow the stream. They noticed that the largest deposit of the material, a huge mound several feet high and more than twice that at the base, was under an overhang of a grayish vein of material, which appeared to extend into the mountainside. Picking up a sample of the raw ore, the geologist assigned to the team looked at it.

"It feels brittle." he commented, then threw it against the mountainside and they watched it shatter.

"Interesting." he commented. Further rummaging through the pile found one of the numerous chunks that appeared to be in an intermediate state, not quite the dark gray ore, not quite shiny and metallic.

"I can't be certain," he began, "but it appears that the water acts as a refining agent, removing the impurities of the ore and leaving you with the finished product, which, as we've observed, is quite durable. If we can develop the necessary equipment to work with it, imagine the applications. A tank armored in this material, or a bullet made of it, or hell, even a knife with this material as its blade. And that's barely scratching the surface of the possibilities."

Hammond nodded. Just then, Simmons' voice came over the Heliopolis headset. "Sir, we've just found some native wildlife you should know about. It doesn't appear to be hostile, but it is big."

"What is it?" Hammond asked into the radio.

"It's the biggest damn bear I've ever seen, sir. Thing looks like it would smack its chest on the top of the Stargate if it tried to go through on two legs."

"Keep us apprised, Simmons. Observation only. Do not antagonize or otherwise try to interact with it. We have no idea how it might respond. If it's anything like an Earth bear, probably viciously. And that big … just don't engage."

"Sir, yes, sir." Simmons said.

They scouted the area further, and eventually found a large cave in the mountainside. Slowly advancing into it, they soon noticed that the vein of ore which they had noticed earlier intersected the cave. Something that made them all a bit more cautious were the claw-marks and gouges deep in the rock of the cave wall, ranging from low on the wall up to nearly the ceiling, an indication that the bear-like life-forms inhabited the caves.

One of the privates on Hammond's squad made the first big mistake when he forgot to watch where he was going and stepped on a paw. He jumped when the bear let out a growl of pain, and made his second mistake when he freaked out and put a bullet into the bear's head. After a moment, he looked at it, noticing that it was a small bear, albeit still the size of a man.

"It was just a cub." he said, breathing a sigh of relief. Mistake three was letting his guard down.

A moment later, a roar from mama bear echoed through the cave, and the unlucky private felt something strike his chest, sending him flying backward into a wall. He lived for a few seconds, long enough to stare at the mangled flesh that had been his chest.

"Run!" Hammond yelled, firing a shot at the bear. The monstrous creature only let out a cry of rage as the bullet struck its shoulder.

The team made for the exit as quickly as they could, mama bear hot on their heels. Once outside, they scrambled up the mountainside as quickly as they could, none of them anxious to be the next to feel the bear's claws.

While the other members of the team fired at the bear, Hammond pulled out the radio again. "Simmons, get your team's asses over here now!" he yelled into it. "We accidentally pissed off one of those bears, and they don't seem to notice bullets that much!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Simmons replied.

Hammond looked around, and that was when he figured that they were well and truly screwed. The noises the bear was making had drawn more from the surrounding area.

"Holy shit! How many of these beasts are there?!" Another soldier yelled. They'd finally put down mama bear, and now they had to deal with the others. Hammond counted five, just that he could see, and the noise filling the air indicated that there were more.

One of the larger bears was lumbering toward Hammond, and he raised his rifle, aiming for the bear's head. Suddenly, he heard a whistling sound, and a metal rod protruded from the bear's skull. The beast's momentum carried it forward before it crashed down, and Hammond noticed that there was an arrowhead on it, protruding clear through the skull from the base of the skull through the snout. Further whistling sounds followed, and then people appeared, some carrying spears and javelins, while others bore crossbows. Genuine people. Hammond could only begin to guess how they'd come to be here. He'd expected aliens, yes, maybe even humans, after their discovery of the Jaffa, but certainly not Asians.

One of the people approached him, and Hammond recognized that the man had distinctly Oriental features. He said something that Hammond couldn't understand. The sergeant shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're saying." he said.

The man spoke again, and gestured at the bears.

Hammond spoke up. "They attacked us after one of my men accidentally shot one of their cubs." he said, noticing as he did so that what sounded like the language the man spoke came out of the earpiece he wore. He'd begun to become accustomed to the way the devices worked after his discussions with Kor'us and Tormak.

It was the other man's turn to look confused. "At first, I could not understand you. Now, you speak our language, but your mouth does not match your words, and that which you first spoke still comes out of your mouth." he said.

Hammond pointed to the earpiece. "This device allows us to understand each other, but it needs to hear the other language first." he said.

The man spoke. "I am Zhang Wei, leader of this mining camp. Who are you?"

"You may address me as Don Hammond." They'd made the decision that, for security reasons, when dealing with first-contact situations, no ranks, countries, or organizations would be mentioned.

"Don Hammond? This is an unusual name, but, then, you look unusual."

"We come from far away." Don said.

"Those things you carry, what are they?"

"They are our weapons. We carry them for defense."

"Not much use against the bears."

"We can see that. Your crossbow, spears, and javelins, though, seem to be quite effective."

Zhang Wei held up his spear, and tapped on the tip. "Emperor's metal." he said. "Very hard, and it makes for a good edge. A crossbow bolt can go through a bear's skull, killing it quickly. But you also have to know how to strike a bear to kill it. It also makes good armor. Weave fibers of it together as under-armor, then put plates of armor on over the woven portion."

"How do you make that metal?"

"We don't make it; we mine it."

"How do you refine it, I mean, make it usable? The ore appears brittle."

"Water. We extract a quantity of the ore from the mountain side, and then we deposit it in a stream before moving on to another vein. Then we come back later, once the water has removed the impurities, and we take it back to our city to manufacture things with it. It must then be kept in fire for a day to soften and become malleable enough to work. Once it cools, it cannot be reshaped."

"So, the people here, that we've encountered, you're a mobile mining camp?"

"Yes. Our city is three peaks east of here, carved into the mountain."

"May we visit it?"

"Perhaps. I can take you there, but I will have to get permission from our ruler before I can take you inside."

Earth, CIA Headquarters

Samuel Marcus, of the newly-formed National Intelligence Directorate, looked at the people in front of him, the Director of the CIA and Director of the NID.

"I've been involved in the SGI for a while now." He said. "I can understand why you would deem it important to acquire any missing components, such as this pedestal. Am I to understand that I'm being placed in charge of that undertaking?"

"You are, Special Agent Marcus. In addition to your normal duties, you will be in charge of coordinating the use of both NID and CIA assets to ascertain if the Earth pedestal was ever located by nations friendly or hostile, and if so, you are to attempt to track its progress and locate it. Once that is done, you are to arrange for it to be brought to the US. You have what amounts to an unlimited budget to form the contacts and acquire the resources necessary to obtain the device."

"With all due respect, the United Kingdom is also involved in the operation of the Stargate. Why am I not also coordinating efforts with their intelligence services?"

"Quite frankly, we would prefer to keep this particular effort limited to as few people knowing about it as possible in the interests of security."

"You're serious? People? Human beings?" Ernest asked over the radio through the Stargate.

"Yes, Dr. Littlefield. Asians. From what we can guess, Chinese." Simmons replied.

"'Those of the first world.'" Ernest said, the wheels turning and clicking into place.

"What?"

"The cartouche included the words 'those of the first world' next to pictographs of humans alongside Earth's address. I'd guess that they were transplanted from Earth, either through the Stargate or via ship, probably as some kind of labor force, by the Goa'uld, just like Catherine suggested." Ernest said. "Keep in touch; I have to contact Earth and inform them of this development."

"Sergeant Hammond, do you believe you can negotiate some kind of agreement with the native Chinese for large quantities of this material?" President Truman asked.

"I believe it may be possible, Mr. President, sir." Hammond said. "They're very friendly, and they're going to be taking us into their city. The place is a fortress, and a maze, according to Zhang Wei. I think we could take a page from their book. I mean, from what they've said, virtually the entire mountain has been hollowed out, even down into the ground a few hundred meters, we think; it was hard to be sure how far down it goes, since Zhang Wei indicated that there were several more levels below the lowest we went. They use the metal heavily in their construction and production. Practically everything is made from it. They have tremendous stockpiles of it as well; Zhang Wei says that their production far exceeds their needs, and they like the excess because that way, when they periodically expand, sending colonists out elsewhere to spread across the planet, the colonists can go with plenty of supplies. Zhang Wei says that he will attempt to arrange a meeting with their Emperor for us to discuss the possibility, but it could take some time."

"So, they've expanded over a portion of the planet's surface?"

"Most of the continent the Stargate is on, although their settlements are spaced pretty far apart. From what I've been given to understand, the colonists that leave are usually doing so to avoid civil war because of different beliefs. The Imperial City is pretty much standing alone, although they are on, from what I understand, neutral terms with the other settlements; there isn't much communication between them, but neither are they throwing troops at each other."

Prague, Czechoslovakia

Pavel's face lit up as he entered the Soviet embassy and saw Boris there. His comrade was smiling broadly. "You made it, Pavel!"

"I did, Boris. The revolutionaries … they're-"

"Communist, I know! And the information we delivered helped them! Another country will soon know the glory of Communism! Because of us!"

"So, what's the situation here like?"

"The revolution is proceeding, and we received orders while waiting for you. Once things are stable, we're to liaise with the Communist government for a few weeks before we'll be recalled. We're to help our comrades get everything going."

"I see. So, whatever was in that briefcase …"

"Was used to incite this. We were trusted to help another country achieve their own glorious revolution."


	28. Chapter 25: Meet the Emperor

Chapter 25

ES-6, outside the Imperial City

Zhang Wei and his mining contingent had been inside the mountain city for hours now, and Don and the others were growing bored of waiting to hear if they would be allowed to enter. Midway through another round of gin, the large metal-plated doors opened, and Zhang Wei emerged, accompanied by an older gentleman dressed in ornate robes.

"Don Hammond, Slade Wilson, may I present Emperor's Hand Feng Long."

The man bowed, and Don and Slade decided it was best to copy him.

"Greetings from the Emperor, Don Hammond, Slade Wilson. It has been decided that, as foreign dignitaries, you will be under my charge during your stay here."

"Greetings … I'm sorry, but what form of address is appropriate?"

"You may address me as Hand Feng, Hammond."

"Then greetings, Hand Feng."

The next few hours were filled with exploring the city, during which time Hand Feng proved quite cooperative in answering their questions, and Hammond and Wilson did their best to respond in kind.

"So, if I may ask, how did you come to our lands? Your people don't seem to be equipped for a long journey."

"We came through use of a device that allows us to travel between two of them quickly. A gateway of stone"

At that, Feng's jaw dropped. "This device, as you call it, we know it as the Ring Of Yu. There are legends of it being used to bring people to our world by the Jade Emperor, Yu-Huang Shang Ti."

"Really? Not by a 'god'?"

"Some may have called Emperor Yu such, but the ancient legends claim he never desired such a title. Many discount them, but the Emperor has long been intrigued by the tales. Perhaps he will see you personally now that this has come to light."

"I will have to consult with my leadership before I can divulge more information about it."

"Will you have to return to the Ring Of Yu?"

"No. We have a means to communicate with the people we left at the gate, and they can contact our home through it."

Another bit of information that caused surprise among the Earthers was the reveal of how many people lived in the mountain city: nearly a hundred thousand.

…

"As long as you don't disclose our address, and you inform them of the dangers of using the gate, talking about it is acceptable, especially if it'll get us in the good graces of the Emperor. The better the relationship you can forge, the better things can go. We're working on getting a new diplomat briefed in on the program to take over those duties, but until then, keep up the good work." General Lawson stated after Don explained the situation. "If possible, try to discourage them from using the gate. They wouldn't stand a chance against the Goa'uld. And remember, you are being given full authority to negotiate on Earth's behalf. Try not to give away the homeworld."

"Understood, sir. Hammond out."

They had been shown around parts of the mountain fortress, and were more and more impressed. The mountain really had been almost completely hollowed out, with several protruding outposts for defensive purposes, farms on the slopes, and other constructs. At the moment, they were waiting to hear if the Emperor would see them, and Don had opted to use that time to have Simmons dial in to Earth and brief them on recent developments.

"So, Slade, you got a girl back home?"

"Yeah. Wife and kids. Twin girls and a boy. Ten and seven. You?"

"No. Haven't met the right girl. Got a brother, though, and he's courting this really nice girl, so I should have nieces and nephews soon enough. He says he's going to name his first boy after our granddaddy. Frank Simmons. Got a distinguished sound to it, don't it? Course, grandaddy was only distinguished as town drunk. But he did his job, paid his dues, and drank only when appropriate. Lost an eye and a hand in The Great War, too. Always talked about that shit."

…

"These people came through the chappa'ai?" the deep, reverberating voice of the Emperor asked.

"They claim to have, in any case. The array detects no ship in orbit, so it is likely that they speak the truth."

"Did they say where they came from?"

"No. Their lips have been sealed on that subject. They claim they have had … encounters with enemies, and so are under orders not to divulge anything about the location of their homeworld, lest it be threatened."

"When I speak to them, Anlash, I will attempt to glean more knowledge. If they have encountered the Goa'uld, they may make valuable allies in time, depending on their technology. If they prove valuable, perhaps one day we can present them to our brethren, and finally bring forth the army with which to topple the Goa'uld. Go now, and bring them before me."

"As you command, Karuun. May Egeria's wisdom guide you."

…

As they entered the throne room, Don glanced around in awe. This was easily the most impressive room he'd ever set foot in. Hand Feng led them through the room to the throne, upon which sat a positively ancient man.

They bowed, and rose when the Emperor inclined his head.

"Greetings, your Grace, Emperor Huang-Yu Chiang Mai." Don said, reciting the greeting Feng had coached him on.

"Greetings, Don Hammond, Slade Wilson. May I welcome you to my domain."

Over the next hour, discussion and negotiation reminded Don why he'd never gotten involved in politics. However, he managed well enough, and was surprised when several men entered the chamber and presented him and Slade with several knives, one for each of their men, as gifts given in good faith to seal the deal. Knives made of the so-called "Emperor's Metal. He and Slade each received a sword as well, and Slade obviously enjoyed the idea of having such a potent blade.

Fort Roosevelt, the next day

As the team returned through the gate, Don was greeted with the full contents of the First Contact pool as his winnings for having made peaceful contact with the people on ES-6, and the other men were quite impressed by the weapons they had been given.

Ernest and several of the new social scientists were interested in hearing all about the Chinese-derived culture.

…

"We were able to get them to give us a large quantity of the metal as a gift, so that we could see for ourselves the usefulness of it. They also gifted us with weapons of the metal, as a show of good faith. This sword, it can cut clean through steel like butter. Their arrows were particularly impressive. I'd hate to be the guy in a tank hit by a bullet of the stuff. Could probably tear through armor like tissue paper. I'd suggest we start experimenting immediately."

"Agreed. We're going to begin trying to recruit metalworkers for in-house research into it."

…

Prague, Czechoslovakia

"The international reaction has been one of alarm. The western nations are worried. Expect reactions to be fierce and possibly belligerent." Pavel concluded as he spoke to the people gathered at the table. "We will, of course, support the new regime as fellow communist allies."


	29. Interlude: The Rebellion Born

Bra'tac smiled as he finished carving the symbols into the rock and positioned it in clear view of the chappa'ai. Nearly three dozen worlds, all of which had been effectively abandoned by the false gods, had been marked with similar tablets, all with the symbols from the metal necklace, coordinates to a deserted planet, and a simple message: "I wish to speak to you peacefully. If you find this, turn it face down, and I will know to visit the world I have selected to meet you."

He turned to Teal'c. "Our duties here are done." He said, and Teal'c nodded.

"I still do not understand, Master Bra'tac. Why are you doing this?"

Bra'tac sighed. "Do you trust me, Teal'c? And, more importantly, can I trust you?"

"With my life, Master, as you can trust me with yours.I swear it."

"That is what I am about to do. The information I am about to tell you is blasphemous in the extreme. My father showed me the truth. The Goa'uld … are not gods, but false pretenders. They hold our people in bondage and servitude. I found something. An item left behind on Kre'tar, by the people who destroyed the Horus Guard encampment and stole from it. I intend to find these people … and seek their aid in freeing our people from their slavery."

Teal'c simply stared at him. "Have you gone mad, Master?"

"If I have, then perhaps you should betray me to Apophis. I will be executed, and he will choose a new First Prime. Or you can let this be a test. If we return and I am executed for treason, then Apophis is truly omniscient and sees my deception and treason. If I am not, then he is not truly a god, for a true god would know that I am acting against him. And one more thing: do not speak to Arkad of any of this. He is … not right. I intend to release him from my tutelage. Then, perhaps, we might someday face and kill him in battle. Let him join the false gods in death."

…

The group stood gathered around Bra'tac. Each one had been there when they encountered the burning remnants of the encampment on Kre'tar. It was fitting that his friends and former students were here now.

"We stand here because we know the truth. The Goa'uld are false gods. For the first time, I see hope. Hope that we may be free from the slavery of our people. A people have risen to challenge the Goa'uld. We all saw their work on Kre'tar. I have already set into motion an attempt to reach out to them. But today, we gather to form a pact. We will find them, we will ally ourselves with them. And we will be free. I die free! Shal'kek nem'ron!"

"Shal'kek nem'ron!" the others chorused, Teal'c among the loudest.

In their hearts, they knew the time of their slavery was nearing its end, and each would be proud to one day say they were there when the Free Jaffa Rebellion was born.


	30. Chapter 26: In Which A Lot Happens

Chapter 26

As Simmons emerged on to the surface of ES-8, he first turned his gaze to the rat on the cart probe. "Okay, rat looks good right now. Gonna poke around a bit." He radioed back, then approached the pedestal. The first thing that caught his eye was the small slab of stone resting against it, if for no other reason than …

"Oh, shit. Fort Roosevelt, we've got a big fucking problem."

"What is it, Simmons?" Don asked.

"Probable security breach. There's a tablet here … with your dog tag information on it, a gate address … and a message in Goa'uld."

"Oh, shit." Don echoed. He hadn't thought too much about his missing tags on account of all the crazy that had occurred lately. The lockdown, meeting the offworld Chinese, the whole crazy time-traveling bit that Norwell and Slade's teams had been involved in where they'd traveled three days into the past …

"When the gate shuts down, grab the tablet and come back through. We'll get Ernest over here, have him translate it. I've got some explaining to do."

…

"These kind of things happen sometimes. You were in an understandably high-stress situation with the reveal of the parasites, so I don't think anyone can fault you for the loss of the tags. They don't reveal truly critical information, so this isn't going to reflect badly on your record, Lieutenant Hammond. The more pressing matter is the message that was on it. According to Doctor Littlefield, it's essentially an invitation, a request for a meeting."

"So, a trap?"

"Possibly. But I hope to get the drop on them, flip the trap on their heads. Gather a heavy team, get to this world, and set it up in our favor. Once you're in place, we'll return the tablet and show that we agree. If they do want to talk, fine. If they're hostile, though, better safe than sorry."

…

It was like the ES-4 situation all over again. Lots of waiting, with the area around the gate set up as a killing field. They'd been taking shifts sleeping and guarding the gate. When the wormhole flared to life, everyone was ready for a fight. They weren't ready for a lone man to walk through, glance at the sheer amount of machinery and firepower, and chuckle.

"Your people take no chances. Good. And your weapons seem quite effective, if you are indeed the people I seek. Did your forces assault an encampment of the false god Ra not long ago and destroy it utterly?"

Don spoke, earpiece in place. "We did. Why do you call Ra a 'false god?'"

"Because all Goa'uld are false gods. They enslave the Jaffa through the use of the prim'ta, the larval Goa'uld. I saw your work. If you oppose the Goa'uld, then our goals are aligned. I seek to free my people from the Goa'uld."

"'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'" Don murmured softly.

"Indeed. A good phrase. I am Bra'tac of Chulak. And what may I call you?"

"Hammond." He paused, then, almost without thinking, added, "Of Texas."

"Hammond of Texas. A good name. Well, Hammond of Texas, I believe this to be the beginning of a prosperous relationship. Shall we discuss this further?"

…

ES-54 (Bra'tac's meeting site)

"So, this Bra'tac understands that the Goa'uld aren't gods and realizes that his people are enslaved?" Odell asked over the earpiece as Don finished giving his initial report of their first friendly encounter with the Jaffa.

"He does. Apparently just finding some of what we left on ES-2 was enough for him to realize that we would make good allies. He has a group of other Jaffa who feel the same way and will be willing to help us with information and such. They plan to cultivate a larger network, and want our help forming an effective resistance movement eventually."

"It sounds like you believe he is more valuable as an active operative than a prisoner."

"He's First Prime to a major System Lord, Apophis. As far as operatives go, it's like having a major Russian military commander on our payroll. This isn't a chance we should give up just to gain another prisoner. He's willing to talk anyways. More importantly, he is an extremely valuable spy. We're establishing communication lines. Dead drops or meets with one of his cohorts to pass along information."

"So, by sheer luck, you've started a resistance movement in the ranks of a major player in the Goa'uld hierarchy?"

"Apparently, sir."

"Well, that's as good a start as any. I'll brief the President. And see if Bra'tac knows anything about the Asgard. Kor'us and the others aren't talking about them at all. We need to know if there is any way to contact them, ally ourselves with them. In the meantime, we'll start putting together an action plan for how to utilize this Jaffa Resistance. We're already coming along on negotiations with the Imperials. One of their expert metalworkers has agreed to take a look at our facilities and teach us how to work the metal. We should have AP rounds made of the stuff before the end of the year, early next year at the latest. You'll be able to overcome the Jaffa armor easily with those rounds, especially with larger caliber weapons and ammunition."

"Well, I know Lieutenant Wilson is anticipating getting a chance to hack some Jaffa up with that sword. He seems to know how to use it pretty well."

…

Heliopolis

Ernest and the rest of the main staff of Heliopolis stood around the gate. They'd been advised to anticipate the arrival of a 'special guest,' although exactly who was unknown to them. Given the recent time-travel incident, involving a phenomenon formally bearing his name, Ernest had a sneaking suspicion of who it might be.

The gate fired up, and soon his suspicion was confirmed as Doctor Albert Einstein stepped through, positively shaking with excitement.

Once the introductions were out of the way, Ernest quickly took over the good doctor's time, showing him around and, as first living person on Earth to step through the Stargate, answering the esteemed scientist's questions as best he could. Soon enough, the doctor would be going through to Fort Roosevelt to interview the people directly involved in the incident, and Ernest intended to make the most of the time he had with perhaps the smartest man alive.

Many questions and a tour of the castle later, with a promise to return during the next storm cycle to observe the castle's shield in action, Ernest bade the doctor farewell and saw him off through the gate to Fort Roosevelt.

…

Fort Roosevelt, later that day.

Slade stared at Dr. Einstein, then shrugged. "I really can't tell you how it happened, Doctor. All I know is that, three days before we were scheduled to head to ES-7, the Portcullis was out of commission, the gate activated, did some weird flashing, and we came through. The duplicates, I mean. They said that they had been … told that this loop would happen. By themselves, coming through just like they had. A lot of tests later, once it became apparent that they actually were us, or time-displaced versions of us, they explained that they'd been told to tell us to go through exactly on schedule, close the loop. A pulp fiction story featuring a similar time-loop seemed to be the best comparison. A stable loop in time, something that had to happen or God-knows-what could happen. We were given transcripts, told to stick to the script when we went back and closed our iteration of the loop, became … became them, ourselves, whatever, and that once we did so, our own past selves would have to be convinced to do the same, and that, once they did, we would be released from the loop and free to go about our usual business. As for our past selves, they'd do everything our future selves, and then us, had done, but our only concern needed to be maintaining the loop and then moving forward."

"Interesting. And you noticed nothing unusual about your transit besides the flashing of the event horizon?"

"Nothing. It was a fairly normal transit, except winding back where we started from."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed. Never happened before. Best guess … some kind of malfunction or something, something the gate was never intended to do."

"I see. Perhaps … perhaps some kind of interaction with a phenomenon, a star or something … could have distorted the connection, twisted it through time as well as space. Fortunate that you went back to a time when the Stargate was not blocked. You would likely have perished."

"See, that's the last thing I want to think about. I wouldn't even know it. One minute, fine, going on a routine trip. The next, just … dead. And nobody would ever know. Just suddenly MIA. Not a pleasant thought, I'm sure you can agree."

"Indeed. A shame I can't publish any papers on this, though. This Stargate truly changes everything. It … should not be possible to violate causality, to travel through space and time so easily."

…

ES-6

"So, Emperor, we have made contact with a rogue Jaffa, one who wishes for our help in freeing his people from the Goa'uld. Which means your world is more important than ever. If we are to fight the Goa'uld, we need more of that metal to make weapons. I have been authorized to trade some of our weapons to you for more, along with the knowledge to use them properly, and once we are producing ammunition for them from the metal, we will share that with you as well. I would like to arrange a demonstration of our weapons for you so that you can decide their worth." Ambassador Michael O'Hare said

"Intriguing. You wish to make us allies in a fight that is not ours."

"With respect, the Goa'uld are everyone's fight. The oppose freedom on principle. If they came back to this world, they wouldn't even think twice before attacking. Killing thousands, enslaving the rest, forcing you to do their hard labor. If you can help us rise to fight them, there are potential benefits you can't even imagine down the road."

…

Prague, Czechoslovakia

Boris and Pavel had finally received their recall orders, now that things had stabilized in the wake of the revolution, but weren't scheduled to leave for another week, so that they could finish helping both the embassy and the new government.

"There's one thing I can't figure out: why us? Why the rejects, the disgraces?" Boris mused over his bottle

"Because we're good at what we do, Boris. They trusted us with an important assignment because, disgraces or not, we could do it. And we just played a part in history, in a glorious revolution, a victory for Communism!"


	31. Chapter 27: First Men

Chapter 27

Samuel stared at the reports. So far, nothing from his nascent information network on the pedestal, no reports of similar artifacts. Of course, getting access to Nazi reports was proving to be a real pain in the ass. It was likely to be months, if not longer. Fortunately, while getting the pedestal was considered important, it was accepted to be an unlikely possibility for the foreseeable future, and even a bonus because they weren't able to use Earth as their primary base of operations. What not having the pedestal had forced had turned out to be an unexpected boon once they discovered the dangerous state of the galaxy. Anything that kept the Goa’uld from targeting Earth was a good thing.

He turned his attention to the next reports, more about the developing alliance with the Jaffa Rebellion. They had begun putting out feelers among camps of disgraced or banished Jaffa to find recruits, and plans were underway to build safe communities on disused worlds, hidden strongholds for the Rebellion to use for gatherings and, eventually, to strike from. Negotiations were underway to help transform the Jaffa from a force of warriors into properly trained soldiers. They had provided Bra'tac and several other Jaffa with a demonstration of Earth's weaponry and vehicles, and plans for a full set of wargame exercises were on the drawing board.

One thing they were particularly interested in was a Goa'uld underling called Nerus, apparently a scientist with famous appetites. If they could capture him, convince him to work with them, they could gain an invaluable advantage in technological development. Bra'tac had promised to attempt to figure out where Nerus currently was, and if possible, how well guarded he was.

ES-54

Don was meeting with Bra'tac again. He greeted the other man with a smile and a handshake of sorts.

"Tek'ma'te, Hammond of Texas." Bra'tac greeted him.

After a moment, hearing the translation through the earpiece, Don returned the greeting. "Tek'ma'te, Bra'tac of Chulak."

"To what do I owe this meeting?" Bra'tac asked curiously.

"We have questions for you, more about the state of the galaxy. Anything that can help us. And questions about the Asgard."

Bra'tac stiffened. "I know little about them. But they are feared by the Goa'uld. Certain worlds are barred to the Jaffa and Goa'uld because of them. If you have something to write with, I can give you the symbols to reach them through the Stargate."

Don pulled out a notebook and pen and offered them to Bra'tac. "Here you are." He said.

Bra'tac took the offered items and soon finished writing down the symbols for 25 worlds.

"Here. But tread carefully. I can tell you nothing of these worlds."

Don took the offered paper and tucked it away. "Any progress on finding Nerus?"

"Not yet. He is difficult to find. His value to Ra is such that his location is perhaps their best-kept secret. But we will find him."

The final reports were more progress reports on their relationship with the Imperials. Things were looking good, although there were some reports of a rather serious disease outbreak. Doctor Sanderson and a team were going to be dispatched to check it out and see if Earth could help in some way. Anything to garner goodwill with them was a good decision.

Area 52, Earth

Doctor Sanderson did not look happy as he entered the briefing room. He gave the expected greetings, then launched right into it.

“Diphtheria. They're facing a diphtheria epidemic, possibly, even probably, caused by us, given that everyone I spoke to seems to have no memory of a similar disease outbreak. It's likely that one of our men was a carrier, and infected them. We're going to need a lot of antitoxin to stop the Imperial City from being completely devastated. I should have pushed for better screening and quarantine protocols. There's so much historical precedent for shit like this I feel like an absolute idiot for forgetting. Of course they'd be vulnerable to new diseases. And vice versa. We're lucky nobody's caught anything from them. Yet. My duty as a physician demands that I insist we institute better protocols for quarantining and screening teams going to and coming from new worlds, especially if we find a population of humans. And we need to do so immediately, as soon as I have a proposal for timeframes. And I expect it to be approved without fail."

"Are you giving us orders?" Odell asked icily.

"You bet your ass I'm giving orders. My duty is to save lives. These protocols will save lives. If you have a problem with that, you can accept my resignation and find one of those damned Nazi butchers to play chief of medicine here. Either we do this my way or I walk. And I blow the whistle. Am I fucking clear?"

"Gentlemen, shut up. Both of you. Right now. The doctor has an excellent point. I'll expect a proposal for quarantine protocols on my desk in the next 48 hours." Sheridan said, cutting in before the situation could escalate further.

“More importantly, from a military perspective, this raises questions. The relationship between the Imperial City and the others is apparently a delicate one. If this outbreak weakens the city sufficiently, it's possible they might try something. We want to get a better picture of the situation, try to make contact with the surrounding settlements, gauge their overall capabilities and feelings towards the city. One thing is for sure, and that's that any conflict is going to be ugly. Nothing but close quarters, enclosed spaces, choke points, and plentiful cover. It's like a single building in those tunnels.” Sheridan said.

"So we have to make sure there isn't a conflict, then. Or, if we can't stop that, at least give the city better defenses so the fighting stays outside the mountain." Odell said.

"Priorities, gentlemen. We need antitoxin. We need it now. If we stop the epidemic now, the Imperial City doesn't weaken, and the others don't attack." Sanderson's voice was firm. "If we can save the city now, keep the others from perceiving weakness, we can avoid both losses due to the epidemic and due to war. We save more lives that way."

Heliopolis

The Door. That's what they'd taken to calling it. A sealed metal doorway they'd uncovered behind a collapsed hallway. It was made of what appeared to be the same material as the pillar cores, and had proven impossible to open. The current theory was that it opened in response to some as-yet unknown trigger. The only clue was a flat crystal panel on the side of the door.

Don was showing it to Slade and the others.

"So far, we haven't been able to open it. At least a dozen people have tried different ways. They think the panel here might be related somehow, but it's not a button, or a radio frequency receiver." He said. "Ernest thinks fingerprint scanner, in which case we're fucked on opening it."

To demonstrate, he placed his hand on the crystal panel.

To everyone's surprise, the panel suddenly glowed and the door whooshed open.

"Holy shit!" Don exclaimed.

"Haven't you tried that before?" Slade asked.

"Well, no, not me specifically. But a lot of other people have and it never opened for them. Now hang on. We've got to get a camera down here first."

When they had finally gathered a camera, Ernest and several others joined them as they ventured down the staircase behind the door that led down into a large room that appeared to contain numerous consoles.

Ernest was the first to speak. “It looks like a larger version of the control room we found.”

“A backup?” Don asked.

Ernest shook his head. “I don't think so. I think this is the primary and the other one is the secondary.”

Slade pointed out the large window that occupied the front of the room. “Is it just me, or is that a second Stargate?”

Sure enough, the control room was situated overhanging another room containing a Stargate. Ernest walked up and stared at it. "It doesn't appear to have a pedestal. I wonder why." He commented.

Don pointed to a console. "Because it's there. Take a look." He said. "Different design, but the symbols look right."

"An entire extra gateroom. Why?" Ernest asked.

"Hell if I know, doc." Don said.

That question was answered when they discovered a room below the gateroom with over a dozen strange-looking craft, khaki colored with strangely textured hulls, nearly cylindrical and slanted front and back. The roof had a seam and Ernest had discovered a console button that opened it.

"These things must be some kind of exploratory craft designed for gate travel. Eyeballing it, I'd say they just barely fit through."

The next days were a flurry of activity, translating consoles, exploring the rest of the once-hidden area, and beginning a study of the craft, already being dubbed "Gateships," for their apparent role of going through the gate. They had discovered a large door in the outer wall of the hangar that opened up just above sea level, presumably to allow the vessels to explore or patrol the planet.

The senior staff were gathered for another progress meeting. Ernest spoke first. "So far, we've almost finished translating the consoles in the control center. And we've discovered what appear to be alien craft of some kind. We currently have no idea how to activate the vessels, or any idea about their capabilities. Speculation goes so far as spacecraft, but if that is the case, whatever propulsion they use has to be incredibly advanced.

"We've determined that, out of the over 200 personnel now directly involved in the program, only 5 possess the ability to open the door: Don, Samuel, one of Slade's men, and a couple of the scientists. We have several theories, but no true explanation yet for why that is."

"I assume further experimentation, both on the craft and the door, is underway?" Sheridan asked.

Ernest nodded. "Of course. Don has a theory he wants to test. We intend to try that once this meeting is adjourned."

The meeting wrapped up shortly thereafter, and Ernest, Don, Dr. Langford, and a couple of cameras were in position. Dr. Langford was acting as communications officer with Ernest and Don, who were aboard one of the craft with a camera.

Don moved to the front of the Gateship's cabin and motioned for Ernest to take a seat. Ernest did so, keeping the camera rolling and trained on Don as the other man moved to sit down in what seemed to be the pilot's chair.

The moment Don sat down, the consoles lit up. Don stared for a moment. "Okay, looks like the theory was right. We have it active."

"Alright," Langford began, "you have power. We're opening the hangar bay doors now. Focus on trying to get it in the air."

Don nodded, then turned his thoughts to liftoff. There was no physical sensation of motion, but from the way the view shifted, they had apparently risen a couple of feet in the air.

"Okay, you're up, and a section of hull on each side has extended outward with some kind of pod. Some kind of drive system, maybe? We'll have to investigate further. Now, take her for a short spin. We want to see her abilities. Maneuvering, acceleration, the works. Put her through her paces."

"Understood." Don took hold of the control and with another thought sent the vessel slowly moving forward and out of the hangar.

It became apparent very quickly as Don flew the ship that it outclassed anything on Earth by a truly obscene margin, pulling maneuvers that would have been impossible in any Earth plane for a number of reasons, least of all inertia.

Finally, once they had sufficient film of the craft in action, Don proposed one more test, just for confirmation that it could.

They'd identified a tracking station in the control room, and this was where Langford and several others gathered.

"Alright, Don, you are clear to begin ascent. Good luck, and Godspeed."

The small vessel angled upwards and Don willed it forward at full acceleration.

It took less than a minute.

"Don, how's she holding up?" Langford asked.

"Pretty good. Why?"

"Because if this monitoring system is right and we've translated units of measure correctly, you and Ernest are officially above the Kármán line."

"What's that mean?"

"It means congratulations are in order. You and Ernest are the first Americans in space."


	32. Chapter 28: Progress, maybe?

Chapter 28

Area 52

December 30th, 1947

General Sheridan listened to the President carefully. What he was being told was … disturbing. Apparently, over the last two years, evidence had come to light of extensive Soviet espionage networks within civil and government positions.

"Has anybody who knows about the program been implicated?" That was General Anthony Clarke, newly-appointed first Director of the NID.

"Thankfully, no. But this is a wake-up call. We have to look for more security breaches. I want the NID to liaise with the FBI on any and all matters of investigation into these activities. I want a recommendation for an official liaison officer as soon as possible."

"Captain Marcus." The words were quick to leave Clarke's mouth. "He has a background in Army Intelligence. And an exemplary record, including managing to dismantle a small cult developing within an Army base in '38, an incident which very nearly cost him his life. He's dedicated, loyal, and hard-working. If anybody can deal with Hoover, twist his arm, get full cooperation, it's him."

"Once we're done here, get Captain Marcus up to speed and make the arrangements." Truman said. "We need to discover as much as we can, and frankly I don't trust Hoover. Having an eye on him to keep him honest can't hurt."

Samuel sighed. "So now I get to play politics with the director of the fucking FBI. Can't say I'm overjoyed. But I'll do my best. If he knows anything, we need to know it."

Sheridan nodded. "I know. General Clarke was singing your praises, recommended you without hesitation. Even gave me some briefing on your exploits. Heard about that cult you dismantled. You were lucky to survive."

Samuel shrugged. "I have Don to thank for that. He was serving on the base at the time, pointed me in the right direction. And when shit hit the fan and things went up in flames, he showed up, dragged me out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We lost touch afterward, but it was interesting running into him here. And good to work with him again."

"He's a good officer. And a good leader. Truth be told, we're considering putting him up for promotion to captain. The program's getting a bit big for him at just a 1st Lt's rank for the level of seniority and the responsibility he has. He's been the immediate CO for these men since the beginning. They trust him a lot. Bringing in a captain from outside would risk destabilizing the units."

"He deserves it. I don't know if my name carries much weight, but add it to the recommendation."

Fort Roosevelt  
January 15th, 1948

Newly-promoted Captain Hammond fingered the new rank insignia for probably the hundredth time that day. He still couldn't believe it, but he understood why they had done it. The program was growing larger, and needed higher ranking officers. As the man who had been there from the beginning, with the best rapport among the different units, he was the logical choice.

He gave a nod to Slade as he passed the other man. "Good luck out there." He said. Slade's team had been tapped to head the first mission to ES-55, one of the worlds Bra'tac had given them.

Slade nodded. "We'll see what we can find." He said.

Fort Roosevelt, ES-3

February 3rd, 1948

Primitives. That was what they had found so far on the worlds that Bra'tac had provided them. Nothing beneficial so far, but they had only explored three worlds at this point.

Don put the reports down and sighed. He had hoped they would find some way of contacting the Asgard from one of these worlds. Everyone had hoped that. They needed all the help they could get.

Standing up, he stretched for a moment before lighting up a cigarette. Exiting the office, he glanced over at the newest construction project, a large-scale natural gas extractor and refinery. They were gradually building up. Eventually, the plan was to begin constructing a power plant large enough to power a small town as they began colonization.

Colonization. Maybe one day he could have Molly and George moved here, once the settlement was started. Several of the others with families were thinking the same thing. It was a strange thought that this might one day become the safe haven for humanity if something happened to Earth.

That was the terrifying thought. They had confirmed that the Goa'uld had proper starships. Bra'tac had confirmed it, even broken down the ship types. The fighters came in both open-cockpit, or udajeet, varieties and the space-capable death gliders. They had cargo ships, the tel'tak, bombers, the al'kesh, troopships, and the Ha'tak, their mothership. And apparently there were ways to identify a planet's physical location from the gate symbols. This meant that, if the enemy got the symbols for a planet, they could come in ships instead of the gate. Which meant it was even more important to prevent the Goa'uld from learning the gate address for Earth. They had added a small directive where, in the event capture were to be inevitable, suicide was officially endorsed.

Don returned his thoughts to the present. Another exploratory expedition was planned for the next day. This one would be led by the English squads, with Norwell commanding. Hopefully, this time, they would find something useful.

The other main project at this point was getting diphtheria antitoxin to the Imperial City. From what Sanderson was saying, sourcing enough was proving problematic. But they were providing what they could, and apparently the Emperor was providing, as a "gesture of royal appreciation," large quantities of both weapons and the raw metal in excess of what had originally been on the negotiating table. Plans were being put together to train personnel in using things like swords, spears, and bows, pending development of a new variety of armor-piercing bullet made partially from the metal. Initial tests had shown weapons made from the metal to be capable of easily penetrating the Jaffa armor, tearing through it "like a knife through butter," so the sooner they could shoot bullets of the stuff, the better.

At that moment, Simmons came over to him with a smile. "Morning, sir." He said with a salute.

Don returned the salute with a nod. "Morning, Simmons. How's it going?"

"Good. We just got word from Earth. The South African squads should be arriving within the next day or so, and Alpha Squad's up for R&R once they get here, so we'll be back home for a bit."

Don nodded. Despite the Earthside base now having an "official" location several miles in almost exactly the opposite direction on the other side of Las Vegas as both a decoy and a place to house families, the SGI squads' true deployments, typically rotating every month or so through each base and then back to Earth for R&R, were still masked in secrecy, the official story to families being either "short-term training exercises" or "on-site temporary security detail" for an unspecified location. At least now he was able to see his family every three months instead of going nearly a year.

God, had they really agreed to go through the fucking gate that first time with only a few minutes' notice on the fact that they might never see home again? Had he really been the one to jump on that train in the name of keeping evil space aliens from having their way with Earth.

This led to the question of "would I do it all the same way all over again if I knew then what I knew now?" A long moment of thought led to the inevitable conclusion of "Damn right I would."

"Sir?" Simmons asked, and Don realized to his chagrin that he'd spoken the last part aloud. He shook his head.

"Just thinking, Simmons. If you could go back in time, make the choice of whether or not to get involved in the SGI, knowing everything we know now, would you?"

Simmons chuckled. "With all due respect, sir, fuck yeah I would. We're fighting for everyone on Earth, especially our loved ones. Being a part of this … How many people would kill for the chance to fight fucking aliens? And we get to do that. We get to kill the shit out of evil brain parasites and their legions of doom. I don't know about you, sir, but for me, it's an honor to be involved in this."

Don nodded. "I agree. We're Earth's first line of defense against the Goa'uld. And being a part of that … it's something special."

Heliopolis Base, ES-1

February 3rd, 1948

Samuel watched Ernest and Catherine practically fawning over the consoles of the control room once again. He was along for the ride, more or less, to activate consoles or open doors that required whatever characteristic only a small number of people had.

So far, there had been little need for his services in that regard. There were several corridors with sealed doors much like the one isolating this command center from the rest of the facility, but for the most part, it had been agreed to hold off on blind exploration until they could access a database with more detailed information. This was what Ernest and Catherine were currently doing, trying to interpret the computer system's various prompts and commands, along with a team of technicians. This system was … unbelievable. The scientists and technicians just couldn't shut up about that fact. They were babbling all kinds of what sounded like technical nonsense to Samuel. Apparently, it was also giving them "ideas." For what, Sam could only guess.

Finally, the gaggle of eggheads called Samuel over to a console where a holographic projection hung. Ernest spoke for the group. "Captain, if you would be so kind, we require your services. We've found a map, complete with labels. We're ready to begin opening the doorways. We know where we want to start." He pointed at an area of the map that seemed to descend deep into the cliff face. "This corridor leads to what we believe to be either the power generation facility or the shield generator."

"How do you get those terms mixed up?"

"It doesn't just say 'power plant' or 'shield emitter.' It specifically identifies the area as a 'Potentia chamber.' Either way, it's worth taking a look at."

"Fine. Get a team together, grab a camera, and let's go."


	33. Chapter 29: What the ...?

Chapter 29

Heliopolis Base, ES-1  
February 3rd, 1948

The group headed down the corridor, Samuel opening up not one, but five security doors along the way.

As the fifth door opened, Ernest was almost giddy. "It has to be something critical. Five doors so far, all locked with the same mechanism."

Catherine nodded. "If it's the power supply, I wonder what it'll be? Almost certainly not fission. Maybe fusion? Geothermal? A civilization this advanced, possibly … antimatter?"

Ernest shrugged. "Could be anything. We might not even have the theoretical concept of how it works. Whatever it is, the fuel supply must be extremely long-lasting and incredibly stable. Heliopolis has been abandoned for at least a century, probably much longer."

They reached another door, and Samuel sighed. "Tell me this is the last one."

One of the technicians spoke up. "The corridor is at least a mile long, if the map was properly scaled. We've been walking for about fifteen minutes, covering an average of-"

"Just give me a straight answer." Samuel snapped.

"It should be just through that door." The tech said simply.

"Good." Samuel slapped the pad, and the door slid open.

They poured into the room, looking around. It was empty except for a large, sophisticated-looking pedestal in the center.

Samuel blinked. "Isn't there supposed to be some big generator or something?

"Let me see." Ernest moved to the console, pulling out a notebook he had been using for ease of translation.

Minutes passed, then a quarter-hour, then half an hour. Finally, Ernest spoke. "I think … I think this is the power source. Let me test something." He pressed a button, and a large, roughly-cylindrical, crystalline object began rising up from the pedestal. It glowed yellow from within.

Samuel lunged forward, slamming the button again. The cylinder retracted, and the hole closed. "Everyone out of the room!" He ordered. Once everyone was out, he sealed the door before he wheeled on Ernest. "Nobody fucks with that thing until we get it checked out for radiation. You could have just killed us, Ernest!"

Ernest stood his ground, but nodded. "Perhaps I was a little … rash in opening the pedestal."

Samuel nodded before tapping his earpiece. "I need a Geiger counter brought down immediately. Recommend radiation protection and medical personnel; seven people exposed to possible radioactive source."

"Alright. We're waiting right here until they get down here and clear us."

Thankfully, the process didn't take long, and soon it was confirmed that the power core didn't put out any sort of radioactive energies.

With everyone cleared, the technicians returned to the control room, where they began going through the computers, trying to find out the specifics of the power source.

That proved to be difficult; they were still trying to understand the software architecture of these incredibly advanced machines. Plus, the system, according to the technicians, seemed, for all its sophistication, to be clunky and not user-friendly.

Ernest returned to the power room to begin a detailed analysis of the system. He began by analyzing the console, and there found some rather disturbing news.

"The power supply seems to be dependent on that crystalline cylinder, and if these readouts are accurate, it's only at one-third capacity." He explained to Catherine. "We can yank the dead one for study, but if we remove the live one … no power. No power means no shield. No shield means we get hammered by the superstorms."

"Can you get an estimate on how long we have?"

"Hang on." Ernest typed some buttons, and some words flared on the screen. "Fuck." He murmured. "It's all in their units of measure, but the number itself is pretty large."

"How large?"

"Six thousand, one hundred, seventeen. I think it's safe to say, given how old this place could be, it's either months or years. So we're not in much danger. I can't imagine what might happen that would drastically drain it."

Samuel, meanwhile, was making his routine report to his superiors. Clarke, Odell, and Sheridan listened intently as he recounted the events that had occurred.

"So we know there's a limit on this power crystal, this 'Potentia.'" He said into the earpiece. "If, somehow, we were to drain it, the base would be left utterly vulnerable."

Just then, one of the technicians came running up. "Captain Marcus, we found something you'll want to see."

"I'm kind of in the middle of something right now!" Samuel snapped. "What's so damn important?"

The tech grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "We found … someone."

Samuel blinked. "What?"

"In some kind of tube, like … suspended animation. The system says they're alive. We want to wake them up."

Samuel stared, speechless, then spoke. "Sirs, if you'll excuse me, a situation just came up. We may have a chance to talk to another alien."

"Actually, he doesn't look alien. He looks human. Like an old man. We suspect Goa'uld, which is why we came to you before waking him up."

Samuel switched channels. "Epsilon Squad, meet me in the control center. We have a situation. Bring firepower."

Slade's voice came over the earpiece. "Yes, sir."

They assembled in the control center, and the tech led them to another corridor. They walked down it and finally reached a small chamber with several large tubes lining the walls. Most of them were empty, but one was occupied. Samuel looked at Slade and the others. "Weapons ready." He ordered, and suddenly twelve rifles were pointed at the chamber. He glanced over at the technician. "Okay. Deactivate it."

The chamber was deactivated, and the figure stirred, glancing around, looking very confused. Samuel stepped forward, holding out an earpiece and offering it to the individual, demonstrating with his own what to do.

The man took it and put it in. "I was wondering if I would ever be awoken. I see you are using the translators. Are you not Alteran or Lantean?"

"I don't know those terms." Samuel said. "Now, I have some very important questions for you. Are you Goa'uld?"

"What? No! I am a Lantean! My name is Oberon. I created this facility."

"You built this place?"

"Designed and built, yes, after fleeing Atlantis."

"Atlantis? As in … Atlantis?"

"You have heard of it?"

"It's a … myth, a legend. And you're saying it's real."

"Indeed. But I would not recommend traveling there, not unless your people are quite powerful. The Wraith … they are a formidable foe. For all our strength, even we were beaten back until all we held was Lantea. I left after my wife was killed, came here to build this place. Once that was done, I chose to enter stasis, to be awoken if my services were required again."

Samuel nodded. "I see."

Oberon nodded. "May I step out?"

Samuel nodded, motioning for the soldiers to lower their weapons.

As Oberon stepped forward, he stumbled, catching himself and taking a look at his hands.

"I need to see how long it has been. The chamber is not perfect. I must have been in there quite some time."

Samuel helped the old man to the nearby console, and Oberon began accessing the system. He gasped.

"Eleven thousand years. I must be … ancient. I fear I may not be long for this world. I might try to Ascend." He wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but seemed to be talking to himself.

"Perhaps we should get you to our medical facilities. And maybe you can help us. Tell us everything you can about this place, your technology, everything."

Oberon nodded. "Let us go, then."

Area 52, Earth  
February 3rd, 1948

There had been expectations of an update, but when Samuel had said that they had found the still-alive architect of Heliopolis, it went into high gear. Dr. Sanderson and a full medical team were standing by. Anyone of import was being gathered or contacted. Cameras were ready to start filming.

Samuel, Slade, and Oberon came through first, the two Earth men supporting the "Lantean" between them. Sanderson took one look and spoke. "Get him on the gurney. Straight to the infirmary. I need to do a full medical workup. Only one camera in the infirmary. No crowding him. And no visitors until I've checked him out."

"You think it's that bad?" Samuel asked.

"This man is at least a hundred, if not older. I highly doubt he is in perfect health. I want to make sure we know what we're dealing with. I'll deliver a full report when I'm done."

Samuel nodded, and he and Slade helped Oberon onto the gurney, which was promptly wheeled off, Sanderson keeping pace.

Several hours later, Samuel, Ernest, Catherine, Dr. Langford, and practically the entire command structure of the Initiative stood outside the door to the infirmary.

Sanderson emerged, shaking his head. "He doesn't have long. His body is showing signs of massive organ failure. Erratic heartbeat, low lung capacity, renal failure, liver failure … the list goes on, but it's obvious that he is dying."

"How long?" Sheridan asked.

"Hard to say. Hours, days? No more than a week, on the outside. On the inside, he could honestly die any minute. But he's lucid, he's cogent, and I will allow two visitors at a time. You have up to half an hour; I want him to rest as much as possible."

"That man is a major intelligence coup for the Initiative about Heliopolis. We need all the time we can get to talk to him." Sheridan said.

"Half an hour for now." Sanderson said firmly. "After he gets a chance to rest, we will see about giving you more time. But as of now, he is my patient and I am exercising medical privilege. Half an hour. I suggest you make it count. You may not get another chance."

Oberon smiled as Ernest and Samuel entered the room. "Greetings." The old man said warmly.

Ernest smiled back. "Greetings. Oberon, right?"

A nod.

"I can't believe we have the opportunity to meet you. We discovered Heliopolis three years ago, and I always wanted to meet someone who had been here. To meet the architect … it's a dream come true. I have so many questions. The pedestal in the meeting room, what is it? Can you give me the key to deciphering it? What else is here? What were your people like?"

"Ernest, slow down. If you overwhelm him, I will have you escorted out." Sanderson warned.

Oberon held up a hand. "Heliopolis? That must be a different word for it. We called it the Embassy of Four. The pedestal is a … record of events. Many philosophical discussions, logs of various meetings. The key … it would take too long to explain. The database may contain the translation key. There is much here. Weapons systems, the shield, the Potentia, various other mechanisms. It would take much time to explain everything, and your doctor has said I do not have long."

The remaining discussion time went by quickly, and soon the two men were informed it was time to leave. Oberon assured them he would be happy to talk further after he rested.

Catherine smiled at the men as they left the infirmary. "It still seems unreal. The architect. The man who built Heliopolis. I want a turn talking to him."

"And you'll get it." Samuel promised.

The next week was a blur of activity. Oberon revealed several key bits of information about Heliopolis and even the location of an Alteran (his people's original name) base in Antarctica. This alone sparked a huge discussion. They had to get that base, find a way to power it.

Oberon also showed them a map of the Stargate network including many worlds the Goa'uld likely did not know about. These were mainly outposts which might contain important technology, like the Potentia.

Eight days after being awoken, Oberon was growing weaker by the hour, barely able to move or speak. Sanderson had put the kibosh on any further major discussion with him, limiting visits to five minutes.

Sanderson was sitting by the bedside, spending a few minutes with the ancient alien.

"I have a request." He started slowly.

Oberon nodded. "Ask." He said softly.

"Your body … after you are gone, I would like to study it."

Oberon smirked. "If indeed there is a body left. I may yet attempt to Ascend."

"Ascend?"

"To reach a higher plane of existence, to transform into a being of pure energy."

"That's possible?"

"For my people, at least."

A few hours later, Oberon seemed to become unresponsive, virtually comatose. Sanderson voiced his opinion that the alien be allowed to die peacefully when the subject of trying to resuscitate him came up. So they waited, wondering how much longer it would be.

Sanderson had allowed a camera in, on the off-chance that somehow Oberon was "Ascending." It was this that allowed them to capture the first glow from Oberon's form as the alien seemed to stop breathing. They watched as, slowly but surely, the body disappeared, transforming into a glowing presence that began to move through the facility. Sanderson grabbed an earpiece. "All personnel, you might see something weird. Do not, repeat DO NOT, engage; it's a friendly. Repeat, it's friendly, do not engage."

Several people were soon following the figure as he moved towards the gateroom. Once there, the Stargate activated and the glowing being glided through.

Samuel spoke. "You want to tell me what happened to our dying alien?"

Sanderson smiled. "That Ascension trick he mentioned? Looks like he pulled it off."

Life went on. They had learned much from Oberon about Heliopolis, from its defenses to other secrets. Ernest had been relentlessly trying to navigate the database for any translation key for the pedestal. Samuel and the others possessed of the ability to operate certain of the technologies had been practicing, both flying the Gateships and operating the defenses of Heliopolis. It seemed those were controlled by a special chair in another concealed chamber. The main weapons seemed to be strange, self-propelled drones. Oberon had explained they were quite powerful.

The big thing on Earth was justifying the expedition to Antarctica to secure the Alteran outpost there. The expedition would need a suitable excuse for its existence, something that wouldn't make the Soviets or other powers too curious. Ideas would have to be developed soon; it was considered top priority to acquire the facility. It would provide Earth with critical defensive abilities, more information about the Alterans, and other valuable things.

In the meantime, they would begin exploring the worlds Oberon had shown them. He had only shown them a handful, but said they were the main outposts, locations of interest.


	34. Chapter 30: End of An Era

Chapter 30

ES-6, Imperial City of Yu  
February 21st, 1948

The final shipment of antitoxin was delivered, and Dr. Sanderson was overseeing distribution. They had managed to minimize fatalities, with less than a hundred and fifty out of nearly three thousand cases. He had begun educating the populace in medical procedure and was working on proposals for improving medical procedure on Earth.

Area 52, Nevada  
November 28th, 1948

How time had gone by. It had been almost ten months since Oberon had Ascended, leaving them with some useful information and more questions than answers.

Samuel looked over at Catherine, who returned his look with a smile, one hand resting on her swelling stomach. She had stopped traveling through the gate months previously, to minimize the risk of a second miscarriage. They were in the control room watching the newest additions to the program head out.

Samuel had been busy. His growing responsibilities, from trying to set up a search for Earth's gate pedestal to continuing to squash UFO sightings to leaning on Hoover to get the FBI to dish out what they knew about espionage, meant he had been Earthside for most of the year, albeit traveling frequently around the country.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the base, three prisoners were being "debriefed" for probably the hundredth time. It was becoming clear they had learned just about all they could from the two Jaffa and one Goa'uld. The question was becoming, what to do with them? They couldn't be released; they knew too much. They could be kept indefinitely, in theory, given the state of war between the Goa'uld and Earth. Many people were beginning to support the third option: blatant execution and disposal of the evidence.

There had been continued exploration of the worlds both protected by the Asgard treaty and provided by Oberon. They had found one particularly advanced species, the Galarans, who were approximately on par with Earth in most areas, slightly more advanced in others.

Another species they had happened across, but were still far from establishing a diplomatic connection with, were the Svoriin. The main contact so far had been when a Svoriin team had happened to dial in to a world the Initiative was exploring. The contact had, thankfully, been uneventful, and the Svoriin team had given their home gate code and would be waiting to hear from Earth.

This had sped up the next phase of development planned: the establishment of an offworld diplomatic center. After much discussion, a decision had been reached: ES-1, Heliopolis, would be used as the official diplomatic center on account of its alien defenses and the fortifications already made in the gateroom.

A research team was being assembled for the coming expedition to Antarctica. Fortunately, the Antarctic Outpost was apparently located within a chunk of land claimed by New Zealand. The precise nature of the expedition's public reasoning was "long-term geological survey and prolonged habitation studies," an excuse deliberately intended to be relatively uninteresting and as non-military as possible, to avoid provocation.

Of more concern to Samuel was the slew of upcoming trials. He had found … leverage against good ol' J. Edgar, and, using that, had forced Hoover's cooperation in exposing information on several Soviet spy rings, including at least one in England, as well as testimony from one of them implicating Samuel Dickstein, the former head of HUAC. The Soviets were not going to be happy that their little intelligence web was being ripped apart. But it was essential to preserve the secrecy of the Stargate.

Moscow, Russia  
November 28th, 1948

Fearing for your job was one thing. Fearing for your life was another entirely. Fearing for both seemed redundant. And yet this was the position Pavel Borodin and Boris Krylov were in. Much of the network that fed the analysts their information had recently been dismantled or forced to go dark. To make things worse, nobody had seen the dismantling coming. It was as though the capitalists had suddenly learned of them and moved swiftly to apprehend as many as possible. It was estimated that less than ten percent of their network had avoided detection.

The two still had both jobs and lives, but for how much longer was unknown. Right now, they were deciphering some of the last information sent before everything had gone to hell.

"Codename: MAJESTIC-12. Alleged purpose: unknown. Top-secret clearance required. An apparent committee within the United States government formed in the middle of last year by executive order of President Truman, at the same time as the National Intelligence Directorate." Pavel recited.

"Pavel, you've said this a dozen times in the last hour." Boris chided. "Stop repeating, start analyzing."

Pavel nodded. "Middle of last year. Shortly before the network started being dismantled. Special investigative committee, perhaps? Intended to root out our infiltration?"

Boris shrugged. "Possibly. Or it could be something unrelated to us. Maybe related to those "unidentified flying objects" that seemed to be cropping up everywhere for a minute."

Pavel laughed. "I'm not going to say alien space invaders, Boris. Not when the higher ups want answers for how the Americans and British knew about our infiltration. Better to give them a reason, use this 'MAJESTIC-12' as the cause."

Fort Roosevelt, ES-3  
December 5th, 1948

Don was in one of the Gateships, practicing his flying and shooting. The drone weapons were tricky to control, but extremely potent. They seemed to burrow through the target, perforating it repeatedly, before detonating in a rather impressive blast, judging by the craters they were leaving. The targets were mock-ups of the smallest Goa'uld spacecraft, the Death Gliders. And the drones were devastating them. Don was well aware, however, that this was not a valid test against the actual vessels. This was target practice, nothing more. They had several hundred thousand drones to work with; expending a few for the sake of practice was small potatoes. He was due for a turn in the control chair, practicing with maneuvering a swarm of them and returning them safely to storage.

The training session lasted another hour before Don called it quits. He was growing steadily more effective, but Sergeant Irwin, one of Slade's men, was the best by far at operating the systems. Irwin was likely to be the primary operator of the drones once they got the outpost operational.

ES-80  
January 5th, 1949

The silver-armored team moved slowly, cautiously through the woods. Serpent helmets up, Ma'tok staffs ready, they neared their objective. Their unsuspecting prey would be an easy target.

They neared the encampment, and the lead figure paused. Raising his staff into position, he prepared to open fire when suddenly a hail of red energy bolts erupted from the surrounding forest, felling him and his fellows in moments.

Some time later, the figure stirred. Deactivating his helmet, Bra'tac looked around. "Did we 'kill' any of you?"

Don shook his head. "Not even one. You need to learn situational awareness. You were so focused on the encampment that you didn't check your surroundings. Our perimeter posts saw you from half a mile away, giving us plenty of time to set an ambush."

"I see." Bra'tac rose to a sitting position. "The intars are working well for you, I take it?"

"They're interesting. Able to mimic the forms of various weapons, a decent stun effect … we might want more of these."

"I can only obtain so many without raising questions."

"I see. In any case, we need to continue these training sessions."

"Indeed. There is much we can learn."

Area 52, Earth  
January 7th, 1949

Paul was bored. Little that involved his field of expertise was going on, so he had decided to return to an old project, having the coverstone found above the Stargate at Giza brought in for study. However, until it arrived, he had to settle for the numerous pictures taken of it. Something had been nagging at him. As he pored over the writing, he realized what it was. Right in the center of the stone was a cartouche containing Stargate symbols. After quickly sketching them down, he made a phone call. He needed to speak to the prisoners.

"Tell me what you know about this planet." He said, shoving the sheet of paper through the bars of the cell.

Kor'us took it with a frown and examined it for a moment. "Abydos. A minor mining world in Ra's domain. A desert world. Primitive. Only useful for its mineral wealth. You would gain little by going there."

"What sort of minerals?"

"Chiefly one called naquadah. It has many uses."

"Such as?"

"It is used by the gods to enable much of their magic."

Paul sighed. "We've been over this. It's not magic; merely advanced technology you do not understand."

"Spare me your heresy. This conversation is done." With that, Kor'us returned to his bed and sat down.

Area 52, Earth  
January 8th, 1949

"Unless you can give me a damn good reason, I will not authorize a mission to this 'Abydos' planet." General Sheridan said with a note of finality.

"The ancient Egyptians saw fit to put that code, those symbols, on the coverstone. They had to have a reason. I'm not suggesting a big mission. A small team, disguised as Ra's Horus Guard Jaffa. Some quick recon, in and out. Besides which--" Paul hefted a book onto the table and flipped it open to a bookmark, "--I found this." He jabbed a finger to the picture. "This looks a hell of a lot like one of those Potentia devices. According to the text, it was used as a religious icon by Ra. If we can figure where he has a stronghold, we can try to acquire this. We need as many as we can get."

Sheridan nodded. "I understand, but that is too large a risk. We're likely going to be acquiring some from the outposts Oberon gave us. The risk-reward ratio just isn't right."

Paul sighed. "Fine. But I think we should table it for later. Once we have more capabilities."

"I'll consider that. Dismissed."

Heliopolis, ES-1  
January 10th, 1949

Ambassador O'Hare smiled as he adjusted his tie for probably the thousandth time. Official delegations from both Galar and Svoriin were going to be arriving over the next few days to begin discussions for trade agreements. In fact, the Svoriin were due to arrive shortly.

Area 52 civilian decoy base, Earth  
March 15, 1949

It started like any other day for Catherine. See Samuel off to work at the Initiative, feed her daughter Lucille, and then start cleaning the house, when the phone rang. She walked over and answered it. "Marcus residence, Catherine speaking."

"Catherine," Samuel's voice was soft, "I need you to come to the base immediately. There's been … Paul had a heart attack, and he's not doing well."

It was to her credit that Catherine managed to remain calm. "I'll be right there. I love you."

With that, she hung up, quickly grabbed Lucille, and headed for the car. She practically sped the whole way there. When she arrived, she was quickly escorted to the infirmary. Doctor Sanderson met her at the door.

Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but Sanderson beat her to it. "He's slipping. We've barely kept him alive this long. I'd suggest … I'd suggest saying your goodbyes now, while you still have the chance."

Catherine nodded, walking into the room. Paul was lying on a bed and smiled weakly as she approached.

"Catherine." He tried to sit up, but groaned and slumped back down.

"Don't stress yourself, Dad." Catherine said, pulling a chair up.

He nodded. "I'm glad you were able to make it. Dr. Sanderson has made no effort to sugar-coat the situation. I know I don't have long."

"Dad …"

"It's okay, Catherine. Don't be sad. I've lived a full life. I've been part of the greatest adventure in human history. The Stargate … it's been a hell of a ride."

Catherine nodded. "It has been."

Paul smiled again. "Stay with me for a while?"

Catherine nodded again. "Of course."

Heliopolis Base, ES-1  
March 15, 1949

The unexpected gate activation saw the team guarding it immediately jump into action, rushing to man the weapons and dropping the portcullis the instant the wormhole was established. Then both communications systems, the Alteran earpieces and the conventional radio, came to life. As Earth's verification code was spoken, they relaxed.

"This is Captain Marcus. I need to speak to Dr. Littlefield immediately."

A few minutes later, Ernest rushed in and moved to the radio. "I'm here. Go ahead."

"I wish I was calling with good news, Ernest. Paul's dying. Complications from a heart attack. He and Catherine want you back on Earth while there's still time."

Ernest paled. "I'll be right there."

As Ernest made his way into the infirmary, Catherine and Paul smiled at him.

"You made it." Paul said weakly.

"I had to." Ernest took a seat by the bed.

Paul looked at Catherine. "Can I have a few minutes alone with Ernest?"

Catherine opened her mouth to object, then nodded reluctantly, standing and walking out.

Paul faced Ernest, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Ernest, you've been like a son to me. I'm sorry for my part in ending yours and Catherine's relationship. Had I been more forthcoming to her, told her the truth … perhaps she would have waited."

Ernest shook his head. "I don't blame you anymore, Paul. It was my fault for rushing ahead with the exploration. I should have told her what I planned to do. But we can't change the past. And the payoff has been incredible. Everything we've found … we changed the course of history the day I went through the Stargate."

The pair talked for a few more minutes before Catherine came back in, to begin discussing final arrangements.

Doctor Paul Langford, the man who would one day be known as the "father of the Stargate Initiative," passed away on March 15th, 1949. The funeral was held a few days later, on March 19th. Ernest, Catherine, Samuel, Don, and several other members of the Initiative were present. Ernest and Catherine delivered a joint eulogy.


	35. Chapter 31: The Scientist

Chapter 31

Heliopolis Base, ES-2  
June 1st, 1949

The activation of the gate was once again a surprise, and the defense teams remained alert until Bra'tac's voice delivered his clearance code through the earpiece.

"Bra'tac, this is unexpected." The corporal on duty said.

"I must speak to your superiors immediately. I have discovered the whereabouts of Nerus."

"Give me a moment." Reaching for the radio, the corporal spoke. "Colonel Crowley, this is Corporal Gray. We've been contacted by Bra'tac. He says he needs to speak with you about having found someone called Nerus."

"Give me a moment."

A few seconds later, the colonel's voice came through the earpiece.

"Master Bra'tac, thank you for contacting us. I am authorizing you to come through the Stargate. Please wait while we lift the barrier."

The corporal gave the signal to raise the portcullis. As it reached it's open position, the corporal spoke again. "You're clear to come through."

As soon as the Jaffa was clear and the Stargate deactivated, the corporal gestured him over. "Follow me."

When they reached the room serving as Crowley's office, Crowley stood to greet them. The corporal snapped to attention, and Crowley nodded. "Thank you, corporal. Dismissed."

The corporal nodded and departed, and Crowley gestured to a seat. "Please, sit down."

Bra'tac complied. "Thank you for seeing me."

"You're welcome. You say you have located Nerus. This is big news. My superiors will want to hear. I will arrange a conference with them. I hope you understand that we are unwilling to allow you to know the symbols to our homeworld."

"I do. You are wise to be cautious."

"Before I make the arrangements, I need to know everything you can tell me about his location. How well guarded is he? What security measures are in place? Is there anything you can tell us about him that might be useful?"

"The facility is protected by a hundred Jaffa and possesses a dozen Ma'tok defense towers. There are always at least two Ha'taks in orbit, each with full death glider compliments and an escort of no fewer than five al'kesh, along with a dozen gliders on the ground. As for Nerus himself, he will likely possess a personal kara kesh and an elite honor guard.

"He is well-known for his prodigious ... appetites. He is known to be a master of Goa'uld devices. It is said he cares little who he serves so long as he is kept in his … indulgences, those being food and his work."

"It seems like we would have to commit considerable forces to his capture. I will definitely have to consult with my superiors to determine if the risk is worth it, and if we can formulate a plan."

\-------------------

Earth & ES-1 (conference via Alteran earpiece)  
Later that day

"We know where he is. We know his defenses. The question is, how do we take him without losing more men and equipment than it is worth?" General Lawson asked.

Samuel closed his eyes and thought. A moment later, he spoke. "What if we don't take him by force?"

"Captain?" Crowley asked.

*Bra'tac said he enjoys food and his work. What if we bribed him with the chance to experience unique delicacies and to experiment with technology beyond that of the Goa'uld?"

"And how would we do this? We'd have to get to him to make the offer. And that means fighting our way in."

"Not necessarily. The Goa'uld are apparently known for underhanded dealings. Bra'tac, would you be willing to assemble a small team of your most loyal Jaffa and travel to this world under the guise of attempting to secure Nerus' services on Apophis' behalf? Could that secure you an audience?"

Bra'tac thought for a moment. "Perhaps. But I will go alone; I shall not risk other lives. If it goes poorly, I give you my word that I shall not give up your secrets, even if I must die to do so. There is a way to ensure there will be no corpse left."

"Very well. We'll pass this plan along to the top for final approval and further consideration. You should return to Apophis' domain. We will contact you through the established channels when we are ready."

\-------------------

ES-80  
June 4th, 1949

The plan had been approved. Bra'tac would travel to Nerus' laboratory world and attempt to convince the Goa'uld scientist to join him in a meeting. A temporary facility had been established on ES-80, this one with a focus on providing samples of Earth cuisine and a film reel showing some of the advanced technology they had in their possession.

Most importantly, the facility had a number of measures in place for the possibility that Nerus would refuse to work with them. These ranged from simple kill teams to a super-blockbuster like they'd deployed on ES-4. These measures existed because, as had been pointed out during planning, if Nerus were to refuse and escape, he would pose a security risk.

Slade had military command of the situation, and full authorization to employ any means necessary to secure either Nerus' capture or elimination if Bra'tac succeeded in luring the Goa'uld to the planet.

He looked at Bra'tac as the Jaffa approached the pedestal. "Remember the plan. All you have to do is get him to come with you. And remember the code words for if we're going to have additional company. And if the attempt fails and he attempts to capture you ... "

"I die free." Bra'tac gestured to his collar, and more specifically the hidden ring of Composition C explosive wired to it. The destructive measure had been agreed upon after Bra'tac had revealed that the Goa'uld could apparently resurrect the dead, and that in Bra'tac's experience, only destruction of the head could prevent the process from being completely successful; it seemed the "sarcophagus" could only do so much with a destroyed brain.

Slade nodded. "I want to thank you for agreeing to try this. You might be helping us get the best advantage we can in fighting the Goa'uld."

"It is an honor to serve a noble cause such as the downfall of false gods." Bra'tac agreed, then moved to the pedestal and began inputting the symbols.

\------------------

Nerus' laboratory world

Bra'tac emerged from the gate to find several Jaffa aiming their weapons at him. One spoke.

"Halt! What is your purpose here?"

"I am here as an emissary of Apophis. I seek an audience with Nerus. My master wishes to negotiate an arrangement with him."

The Jaffa looked at him, then held out a hand. "You will surrender your staff before you come any further."

Bra'tac nodded, offering the weapon butt-first.

The other Jaffa took it and nodded. "Follow me." He commanded.

The lead Jaffa took position in front of Bra'tac, with one more to the left and right, and one behind. The group proceeded to a large building, and entered. Once inside, Bra'tac was led through the facility to a room deep inside.

The lead Jaffa pressed a panel, and the door opened.

The occupant of the room turned around. "Sal'vak, what have I said about being--" the man stopped as he saw Bra'tac.

"Sal'vak, explain to me why you have brought a Serpent Guard here."

Sal'vak spoke. "Forgive me, Lord Nerus. He comes as an emissary of Apophis seeking audience with you."

Nerus nodded slowly. "And tell me, Serpent Guard, why should I listen to your proposal?"

"Lord Nerus, your talents are well known throughout the galaxy. My master has recently discovered certain … magics that he believes will be of interest to you. He wishes to secure an audience to discuss the possibility of securing your assistance. Should you agree, I am to immediately escort you to a world he has chosen as a meeting ground, a place to show you these magics."

Nerus smiled. "I see. Sal'vak, leave us and return to your duties."

\----------------

ES-80  
Some time later

The gate activated, and the defense team immediately leapt into action. Bra'tac's voice came over the earpiece, giving a short series of phrases that confirmed Nerus would be coming with him, along with a dozen Jaffa.

Slade frowned. A dozen would be tricky to take out quickly. But they could do it. The area was fortified. Every soldier here was armed with an intar, and more importantly had an earpiece, so they all now knew exactly what to expect

He gave the response code, and a few moments later, Bra'tac emerged with a rather fat man at his side. As the man looked around, taking a moment to register the situation as his Jaffa came through,the team sprang into action, opening fire with the intars.

After a few moments, the entire incoming party save for Bra'tac lay unconscious on the ground.

Slade nodded. "Excellent work, everyone. Get the Jaffa packed up for delivery back to Area 52. Move Nerus to the guest quarters, and get the banquet ready."

Nerus stirred. As he opened his eyes, he noticed he was in an unfamiliar room, sitting in a chair. A large table in front of him was filled with what appeared to be food. A man sat across from him.

The man smiled, then spoke. "Greetings. My name is Michael O'Hare. I apologize for the circumstances, but we had to be certain you were in a position to listen to us. We require your assistance. We would prefer if you were willing, but we can just as easily force you. To that end, we have prepared a feast for you, just a small sampling of the food we will provide should you agree. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy. We have prepared a presentation for you to show you the other part of our proposal."

"And what proposal would that be?"

"We are aware you enjoy research. We require your skill set in understanding and hopefully replicating advanced technology, beyond that of the Goa'uld."

Nerus nodded, perusing the selection of foods in front of him. "I have never seen any of these dishes before. The aromas are … intriguing. What sort of technology?"

"That of those who created the Stargates."

Nerus raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? That is indeed quite a proposal. Tell me more."

\------------------

A few hours later, Bra'tac and several of his Jaffa stood with Nerus in front of the Stargate.

"Remember, we must act quickly. There is much I must recover before we enact this ruse. All my research data, a device to access it, and several experiments. Once that is done, I will activate the emergency destruction protocol. It will appear as though one of my experiments went awry and I have been killed."

Bra'tac nodded. "Remember, if you attempt to betray us, you will die at my hand."

Nerus nodded. "Rest assured, I have no intention of betraying my new friends. Baal has been an … acceptable patron, but there is only so much that can be done with what he has provided. I look forward to broadening my horizons. And my palate."

With that, they activated the Stargate and stepped through.

An hour later, the Stargate on ES-80 activated, and Bra'tac, Nerus, and the rest returned, laden with equipment.

Slade smirked. "I take it the mission was a success."

"Completely." Bra'tac replied. "The ruse should be successful. Nerus was quite compliant."

"Now that this is done, I would like to be taken to my new laboratory. And please provide more of that 'Cajun' food. The spice is quite delightful." Nerus said.

Slade nodded. "We'll see to it."


	36. Chapter 32: The Cult Leader

Chapter 32

Indian Springs Air Force Auxiliary Field; Codename: "Area 51"  
June 10th, 1949

The facility was remote, that was for sure. Which made it ideal for what was occurring here. Three of the so-called gateships, and the entirety of the captured Goa'uld technologies, from Ma'tok staffs to the udajeet wrecks, were being systematically studied. Currently, they were keeping one Gateship intact as a reference. The other two were in various stages of very careful disassembly.

The Asgard ship was also present, what was left of it, anyways.

The "prototype" ma'tok rifle was also here, and variations were currently being created using alterations to the design to try to create one which functioned properly with improved accuracy. So far, they had had only limited success on that front, which was more than could be said for any other. They hadn't even been able to activate what Bra'tac had identified as a "kara kesh," the ornate pseudo-gauntlet that fired a shockwave. And they had no idea how the udajeets or gateships even functioned.

Doctor Bruce Matthews was the head scientist of the facility, and he was in a foul mood. They had spent months establishing this facility, and now they had been told they would largely be relocated to one of the offworld locations, Fort Roosevelt. About the only project that would remain here was the Asgard shipwreck, only because it was too large to move through the Stargate.

In addition, they were being ordered to cooperate with the captured Goa'uld scientist. Dr. Matthews didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him.

As the situation stood, though, he had little choice but to comply with these orders. A research facility was being established on Fort Roosevelt, and until that was completed, an estimated time of at least a month, research would continue apace here.

Currently, he was examining one of the dismantled ma'toc weapons under an electron microscope, and had already made several interesting discoveries of late. The circuitry was incredibly intricate, and incredibly small. No wonder their kludges had been iffy at best; various connections were not being properly reestablished.

\------------

Texas, Earth  
June 15th-20th, 1949

Now this was interesting. Setesh had spoken to one of his newest recruits, and learned, rather surprisingly, that the man, a former Army corporal, had been involved in a top-secret project that proved these primitives had unearthed the chappa'ai and were using it actively. This interested him, as did the fact that they had access to Ra's old hoard of Alteran technology. If they could be manipulated, guided, perhaps Earth could serve a purpose. All he had to do was leverage himself in. And perhaps he could …

Entering his private sanctum, he extracted from a sealed drawer a small device, a personal trophy. Placing it in his ear, he waited patiently.

It would not be long, less than a day, before his patience was rewarded. The top leaders of the newly-formed TOTO, the ones who held the chappa'ai, were conversing.

Over the next few days, as his plan formed, he listened further. Finally, during one session, he waited until it seemed the conversation was winding down before speaking.

"Esteemed leaders, my name is Setesh. I know you have the Stargate. I have a proposition for you."

\--------

Area 52, Earth  
June 21st, 1949

"So, one of these Goa'uld has been active on Earth for the last few thousand years?" Sheridan asked.

"Apparently. And somehow, he learned about what we were doing." Truman replied.

"What did you say his name was, again?" Samuel asked.

"Setesh."

"Fuck. Then I've had dealings with him before. That's the name the leader of a cult I ended up dismantling insisted on being called. I'm going to ask that I be his primary liaison." Samuel said.

"We'll take that under consideration. For now, we're working on the details of any cooperation with him. It's likely going to be a while."

\--------

Area 52, Earth  
June 30th, 1949

"Setesh has agreed to transfer the Goa'uld technology in his possession to us. He will be transferred here, under heavy guard, for debriefing and to begin collaboration on certain projects. He cannot be allowed to roam freely and under no circumstances is to be allowed near the Stargate. Any attempt to escape is to be met with lethal force. He knows too much about Earth." Sheridan said. "Captain Marcus has been designated as our official initial liaison with him. Captain, once Setesh arrives later this week, your job will be to handle initial debrief. You are to learn everything you can. He implied he knew the locations of several valuable pieces of technology. Find out where these are. You are authorized to use any means short of outright torture. Hopefully, he'll be cooperative and such measures won't be necessary."

Samuel nodded. "I'll get the information, sir."

\-------

Area 52, Earth  
July 5th, 1949

Setesh and his equipment had finally arrived, and the very thoroughly searched Goa'uld was in a foul mood as he was led into a small room with a table and two chairs, one occupied by a man who looked strangely familiar.

Samuel nodded at the guards. "Dismissed." He looked at Setesh as the guards left the room, then motioned to the other chair. "Please, have a seat."

Setesh sat down. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

Samuel smirked, standing up and walking around the table. "We have. You've changed hosts since last time, I notice."

"When did we meet?"

"1938. I busted your cult open. You nearly killed me. But I survived. And I'm not happy."

Setesh's eyes widened. "I killed you."

Samuel chuckled, resting a hand on Setesh's shoulder, leaning in to whisper in the Goa'uld's ear. "You're half right. What you did … the snake you put in my head died saving me from your kara kesh. But part of Nyarlathotep survived. His memories, his drive, his ambition. His desire to fucking kill you for your betrayal…" Samuel slammed Setesh's head into the table, pinning him down and leaning in close.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell us everything you know about Goa'uld technology on Earth. You're going to help us build an empire, crush Ra and the others. In return, you get your own little fiefdom back."

Setesh nodded as best he could. "I was already prepared to agree to such an arrangement. This heavy-handed approach is unnecessary."

Samuel nodded. "I know. I just want to make it clear: betray us and you die, painfully, at my hand." He released Setesh, who sat up slowly.

"Now, let's get down to business." Samuel said.

\---------

Area 52, Earth  
July 6th, 1949

"The Stewart expedition," Ernest began, "was conducted in 1931. Near as we can tell, it excavated one of the sites Setesh indicated was a location containing certain artifacts of interest. Unfortunately, not only did every member of the original dig die within a year, the ship carrying the artifacts to the US sank off the coast of New Jersey. We need to find the wreck, recover what we can, and also return to the dig site and try to find anything they missed."

Sheridan nodded. "I see. We'll have to run that last part by the British for permission, but it shouldn't be too difficult to arrange to begin searching for the shipwreck. But first, is there anything of value among the contents?"

"Setesh mentioned that there are two canopic jars containing fellow Goa'uld Isis and Osiris in a form of stasis. There's a chance they could still be alive. And he mentioned that Isis is what he called a Goa'uld queen, essentially a female capable of reproduction. We are going to need a supply of Goa'uld symbionts eventually; the Jaffa can only house immature, larval symbionts, and without one, they die." Samuel said. "And we will need somewhere to contain the mature Goa'uld. We can't just kill them. Some kind of large aquarium would be ideal. I've already spoken with Nerus, and he provided information on ideal conditions for such an aquarium."

Sheridan's lips pursed as he thought. "I'll have to get that approved. But it's a good idea. Back to the issue at hand. Did Setesh mention anything else at the dig site?"

"He believes there may be an intact starship there, likely a tel'tak variant. We would have to speak with Osiris to confirm it."

Sheridan blinked. "A … starship? An intact Goa'uld starship? As in—"

"Capable of faster-than-light travel." Samuel said.

"Is there some reason you didn't lead with that?"

"Not really."

"Well, now we need to acquire it. An intact model for study would be invaluable."


End file.
